In his eagerness to catch Retto, Larry had rather lost sight of his more important duties, and, as he looked at his watch, he found he had no time to spare if the Leader was to have a story that day.

He looked for the blue sign, indicating a public telephone station, and saw one a few doors down the street.  On his way there he ran over in his mind the points of the story.  It would be based on the search and inquiry among the steamship captains.

“I’ve got to say it resulted in nothing,” Larry remarked to himself.  “Hold on, though.  Suppose Grace gets a clue from Captain Padduci?  I’ll be in a pretty mess if she does, and I telephone in that we found out nothing.  Wish I hadn’t chased after that East Indian.  I should have stayed with Grace until we got through.

“No help for it, though.  So here goes.  I wish I’d done as Mr. Emberg said and let the Retto matter drop.  But it seemed too good to lose sight of.”

He soon had the Leader office on the wire, and, a few seconds later, was talking to Mr. Emberg.  He was rather surprised at what the city editor said.

“What’s the matter with you, Larry?” was the inquiry that came through the telephone.  “We’ve been waiting for you.  Have you seen the Scorcher?”

“No.  Why?” asked Larry, an uneasy feeling coming over him.  There seemed an atmosphere of “beat” about him, and he was afraid of Mr. Emberg’s next words.

“Why, they’ve got a big story about Mr. Potter being home,” went on the city editor.  “They say he is concealed in the house, and has been ever since the scare.”

“That’s not true!” replied Larry.  “I was at the house this morning, and he wasn’t home.  I’ve been all around the steamer piers and got no trace of him.  I just left his daughter, and she would know if he had been home all this while.”

“Well, they’ve got the story,” repeated Mr. Emberg, with the insistence that city editors sometimes use when they fear their reporters have been beaten.  “I sent Harvey up to the house in a hurry to make inquiries.  The Scorcher got out an extra.  Where have you been?”

“I just finished the tour of the docks.”

“Well, you’d better go up to the house and make sure.  It looks queer.”

“I’ll bet that story came from Sullivan,” said Larry.  “He’s sore on us, and would do anything to get even.  He wants to find Mr. Potter, you know.”

“I hope you’re right,” and Mr. Emberg’s voice was not as cordial as it usually was.  “Let me hear from you soon again.  I’ll have one of the men fix up something for the first edition.  You tell him about the inquiries made of the ship captains.”

Larry’s heart was like lead.  To have worked so hard, and then to have another paper come out with a “scare” story about Mr. Potter’s return, was discouraging.

“That story’s a fake,” he decided, as he prepared to telephone in the result of his morning’s work.  “I’ll prove it is, too, and make them take back-water.”