“We will prove it, if we can, my boy.  What was your father’s name?”

“Horace Chester.”

“Where was your letter written from—­I mean the one telling you of the money?”

“Red Top, Oklahoma.”

Swinging in his chair, the vice-president drew out a slide from his desk on which was a map and scanned it eagerly.

All at once, with an ejaculation of surprise, he murmured: 

“This is remarkable—­remarkable!”

Unable to restrain his curiosity, Bob rose from his chair and approached till he could see the map.  But this afforded him no reason for his friend’s observation, and he asked: 

“What is remarkable, sir?”

“Why, that you should have chosen to go to Fairfax.  Red Top is the next town, thirty miles west!”

“O—­oh!  Then I may find out something about father!” exclaimed Bob excitedly.

“Exactly.  But you must be careful.  If he really had the money, he may have possessed other property which is being withheld from you.  In that case, should the interested persons learn that Horace Chester’s son was in Fairfax something might happen to you.”

The last words were uttered so significantly that Bob could not fail to understand Mr. Nichols’ meaning, and when the latter continued, “I want you to promise me you will call yourself Bob Nichols till I have learned the truth of this matter,” the boy solemnly consented.

“Good!  Not only is it for your own safety, but it will enable you to investigate quietly without arousing suspicion.

“This will be our secret, Bob.  You must not tell a soul, not even Mr. Perkins.”

“I won’t, sir.”

Realizing from Bob’s expression that he had aroused sad thoughts and memories, the vice-president stood up and said: 

“Now that we have made this agreement, we will dismiss it from our minds for the present.  I want you to come to dinner and the theatre with me.”

“But my pass and the train?” exclaimed Bob.

“Your train, or rather the limited, on which I shall send you, does not leave until eleven.  I’ll send for your pass now.”  And, pressing a button, he ordered the clerk who responded to fetch Bob’s pass.

This done, Mr. Nichols was signing some papers when word was brought that the chief of detectives wished to take Bob’s deposition.

“Have them come in here,” replied the official, and in due course the lawyer, notary and detective arrived.

Briefly Bob told his story, signed it, and solemnly swore to its truth.

“And now we’ll forget all trouble and have a good time,” announced Mr. Nichols.  “Give this note to the cashier, chief.  Take Bob’s pass from the messenger and meet us at the limited at eleven.  Bob and I are going to the theatre.”

To the boy, it seemed as though he were in fairy-land.  First Mr. Nichols took him to a store, bought him a new suit and a complete outfit of shirts and clothes, had Bob don some of them, then purchased a trunk, ordered the things packed in it and sent to the station, finally taking Bob for a drive about the city.