“Poor Jim,” he said hoarsely.  “He was a good boy, only full of life.  It will be hard on the family.”

“Yes,” Harrison Miller said simply.

But David was resentful, too.  When his friends were in trouble he wanted to know about it.  He was somewhat indignant and not a little hurt.  But he soon reverted to Dick.

“I’ll go back and send him off for a rest,” he said.  “I’m as good as I’ll ever be, and the boy’s tired.  What’s the bee in Wheeler’s bonnet?”

“Look here, David, you know your own business best, and Wheeler didn’t feel at liberty to tell me very much.  But he seemed to think you were the only one who could tell us certain things.  He’d have come himself, but it’s not easy for him to leave the family just now.  Dick went away just after Jim’s funeral.  He left a young chap named Reynolds in his place, and, I believe, in order not to worry you, some letters to be mailed at intervals.”

“Went where?” David asked, in a terrible voice.

“To a town called Norada, in Wyoming.  Near his old home somewhere.  And the Wheelers haven’t heard anything from him since the day he got there.  That’s three weeks ago.  He wrote Elizabeth the night he got there, and wired her at the same time.  There’s been nothing since.”

David was gripping the arms of his chair with both hands, but he forced himself to calmness.

“I’ll go to Norada at once,” he said.  “Get a time-table, Harrison, and ring for the valet.”

“Not on your life you won’t.  I’m here to do that, when I’ve got something to go on.  Wheeler thought you might have heard from him.  If you hadn’t, I was to get all the information I could and then start.  Elizabeth’s almost crazy.  We wired the chief of police of Norada yesterday.”

“Yes!” David said thickly.  “Trust your friends to make every damned mistake possible!  You’ve set the whole pack on his trail.”  And then he fell back in his chair, and gasped, “Open the window!”

When Lucy came in, a half hour later, she found David on his bed with the hotel doctor beside him, and Harrison Miller in the room.  David was fighting for breath, but he was conscious and very calm.  He looked up at her and spoke slowly and distinctly.

“They’ve got Dick, Lucy,” he said.

He looked aged and pinched, and entirely hopeless.  Even after his heart had quieted down and he lay still among his pillows, he gave no evidence of his old fighting spirit.  He lay with his eyes shut, relaxed and passive.  He had done his best, and he had failed.  It was out of his hands now, and in the hands of God.  Once, as he lay there, he prayed.  He said that he had failed, and that now he was too old and weak to fight.  That God would have to take it on, and do the best He could.  But he added that if God did not save Dick and bring him back to happiness, that he, David, was through.

Toward morning he wakened from a light sleep.  The door into Lucy’s room was open and a dim light was burning beyond it.  David called her, and by her immediate response he knew she had not been sleeping.