The Wondership sped up the bank as if glad to be free of the battle with the swollen creek, and not half an hour afterward they rolled up to High Towers.

Dr. Mays was met almost tearfully by Mrs. Bagley.

“How is he?” was his first question.

“He seems to be better, doctor, but something is worrying him,” said the worthy woman.

“I’ll go up to him at once.  You boys had better stay here,” said the doctor.

The physician was upstairs a long time.  When he came down he looked grave.

“Is dad any better?” asked Jack anxiously.

“He is suffering from a nervous breakdown due to overwork,” said the doctor.  “The cut on his head is a mere flesh wound.  But he appears to have something on his mind.  Do you know what it is?”

Then, and not till then, for in the rush of events he had completely forgotten it, Jack remembered the letter from the brokers.

“Dr. Mays,” he said, “you are an old friend?”

“I hope so, my boy.  You may confide in me freely if you know any reason for your father’s disquiet.”

“If you will read this, doctor, you will understand,” and Jack handed him the letter.

Dr. Mays read it with knitted brows.

“So this explains it,” he said as he returned it to Jack.  “Your father kept muttering about foolish speculations and ruin, but would not tell me what he meant.  Now it is all clear.  Poor Chadwick, I’m afraid from what he said that his fortune, all but a small amount, is wiped out.”

“But will he get better, doctor?” asked Jack anxiously, disregarding the monetary aspect of the affair.

“That all depends,” said the doctor seriously, “on his freedom from anxiety.”

“You mean that he must not worry over money matters?”

“Precisely; but, as that letter states he is ruined, it will be hard to set his mind at rest.  If there were only some way of meeting the situation!”

In the crucible of that moment an idea was borne to Jack that was destined to lead him into strange paths.

“I think I know of a way,” he said quietly, “that is, if the brokers’ message is not exaggerated.”

But it was not.  The next day confirmatory reports arrived of the wreck of Mr. Chadwick’s fortunes.  In his room, attended constantly by Dr. Mays, his friend as well as physician, the inventor raved of his losses.

“We have got to think of some way of easing his mind,” said Dr. Mays, who had placed his regular practice in the hands of another doctor so that he might be with Mr. Chadwick.  “If only his fortune could be won back.”

“I think I know of a way,” said Jack quietly.

The doctor stared at him as if he thought the boy had taken leave of his senses.

“You know of a way?” he questioned incredulously.

“Yes, sir.  At least if the information Tom and I have on the subject is correct.”

“I don’t follow you,” said the puzzled doctor.  “Your father has lost thousands.”