“No one home?”

“No.  Mrs. Potter and Miss Grace have gone to Lakewood, N.J., for a few days.  Mrs. Potter was quite ill, and the doctor advised a change of air, so she suddenly decided to go.”

“When are they coming back?”

“I can’t rightly say.  In a few days, I expect.  I was told to tell you that if anything important occurred you could write to them.  Here is the address,” and the butler gave Larry a slip of paper.

“I wonder whether I ought to telegraph?” thought Larry to himself.  “I think this is very important, yet I am not sure enough of it myself.  I can’t see Retto until the day after to-morrow.  I had better wait until then.  If my suspicions are confirmed I will send a message, in case they are not back by that time.”

Larry was about to leave the house when he saw a man coming up the front steps.  He recognized him as a member of the private detective agency which he and Grace had visited.

“Is Mrs. Potter home?” asked the man of the butler, who was standing in the opened front door, while Larry remained in the shadow of the hall.

“No, she has gone to Lakewood.”

“Lakewood!  That’s too bad!” exclaimed the man.

“Is it anything important?” inquired the butler.

“I think I have located Mr. Potter,” was the answer.  “I am a private detective, hired by Miss Grace Potter.  I came to see if she or her mother would accompany me to try to identify a man I believe is the missing millionaire.”

“Where is he?” asked the butler.

“In a hospital, quite badly hurt.”

“Mr. Potter in a hospital!  Badly hurt!” cried the servant in alarm.  “What shall I do?  Can’t they bring him home?”

“We must be sure it is him,” the detective went on.  “The description answers pretty well, but it would take a member of the family to make sure.  So there’s no one home, eh?  Well, that’s too bad.  I wanted to test my theory that the hospital patient is the missing millionaire.”

“You can telegraph to them,” suggested the butler.  “I have the address.”

“That’s what I’ll do,” the detective replied.  “I’ll tell them what I have discovered.  They can get here to-morrow and we’ll see if he’s the right man.”

The officer took the address the servant gave him and hurried away.

“Did you hear that?” cried the butler to Larry.  “Mr. Potter is found!”

“I hope it proves true,” the reporter replied.  “That is just what I came about, but when I found Mrs. Potter gone I didn’t know what to do.  I had rather the detective would take the responsibility of telegraphing.  Perhaps the man in the hospital is not Mr. Potter?”

“Do you know him?” asked the butler.

“I have met him several times,” replied Larry, “but I did not know he was Mr. Potter.  It just dawned on me that he might be.”

“Well, well, how strange it all is,” murmured the butler.  “Who would have thought it?  Well, we can’t do anything until to-morrow.”