“Oh, I hope you have,” exclaimed Mrs. Potter.  “This suspense is awful.  Who is he?  Where is he?”

Larry related the circumstances of his chase after Retto, telling how he had located the man at the hotel.

“I’ll go and see him to-morrow,” he said, “before he has a chance to get away.  He does not suspect that I know where he is.”

“Why not go now?” asked Mrs. Potter.

“I’m afraid he would see no one to-night.  It is very late, and he would suspect something if any one sent up word they wanted to see him.  He would at once connect it with the chase I had after him.  But I think I fooled him.  I am sure he can clear up this matter in a short time, once I get into conversation with him.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Grace, with sudden energy.  “I will make him tell where my father is.”

Larry thought he could best deal with Retto alone, but he did not want to tell Grace so.  However, her mother got him out of what might have been an embarrassing position.

“I’d rather you wouldn’t go, Grace,” she said.  “There is no telling what sort of a person this Retto is.  His name sounds foreign.”

They talked for some time about the curious circumstances connected with the disappearance of the millionaire, and when a clock struck the hour of one, Larry arose with a start.

“I had no idea it was so late!” he exclaimed.  “I must hurry home, or mother will be worried.  I will call to-morrow and let you know what success I have.”

“Do, please,” said Mrs. Potter.

“And come early,” added Grace, as she accompanied Larry to the door.  “Don’t let that horrid man stab you with an East Indian poisoned dagger,” she went on with a little laugh, as she got out of hearing of her mother.

Larry promised, and then hurried off down the street to the nearest elevated railway station.  He was up early the next morning, and wrote out the story of the day’s events, including the encounter with Sullivan, and the chase after Retto.  He touched as lightly as possible on his own and Grace’s parts in the affair, but there was enough to make interesting reading, and he knew no other paper would have it.

“This is good stuff, Larry,” complimented Mr. Emberg, when the reporter had turned his story in at the desk.  “What next?”

“I’m going to see Retto,” was the answer.  “I’ll make him tell where Mr. Potter is.”

“You were right about your East Indian friend,” admitted the city editor.  “I had no idea there was a story like this connected with him; least of all that it concerned the missing millionaire.  Keep right after him.  Let us hear from you in time for the first edition.  Whatever you learn from Retto will make the leading part of to-day’s account.”

“I’ll telephone in,” said Larry, as he hurried from the city room.

Larry anticipated meeting with some difficulty in getting Retto to talk.  He knew the man must have a strong motive for aiding Mr. Potter.  Probably the millionaire was paying him well to serve him, to mail letters occasionally, and keep him informed as to how the search for him was progressing.