“Nothing at all!” Tom assured her.  “He will be all right.  I think matters are coming to a crisis now, and very likely he’ll be with you inside of twenty-four hours.  The game is up, and I guess Peters knows it.  I’m going to have him arrested at once.”

“Shall I send those land papers, Tom?”

“Indeed you must not!  But I’ll talk to you about that later.  Just put away that phonograph record of Peters’s talk.  I’ll take along the photo telephone negative, and have some prints made—­or, I guess, since we’re going in the airship, that I’d better leave it here for the present.  We’ll use it as evidence against Peters.  Come on, Ned.”

“Where to now?”

“Peters’s house.  He’s probably there, arranging to cover up his tracks when he lights out.”

But Shallock Peters did better than merely cover up his tracks.  He covered himself up, so to speak.  For when Ned and Tom, after a quick flight in the airship, reached his house, the promoter had left, and the servants, who were quite excited, did not know where he had gone.

“He just packed up a few clothes and ran out,” said one of the maids.  “He didn’t say anything about our wages, either, and he owes me over a month.”

“Me too,” said another.

“Well, if he doesn’t pay me some of my back wages soon, I’ll sue him!” declared the gardener.  “He owes me more than three months, but he kept putting me off.”

And, so it seemed, Peters had done with several of his employes.  When the promoter came to Shopton he had taken an elaborate house and engaged a staff of servants.  Peters was not married, but he gave a number of entertainments to which the wealthy men of Shopton and their wives came.  Later it was found that the bills for these had never been paid.  In short, Peters was a “bluff” in more ways than one.

Tom told enough of his story to the servants to get them on his side.  Indeed, now that their employer had gone, and under such queer circumstances, they had no sympathy for him.  They were only concerned about their own money, and Tom was given admittance to the house.

Tom made a casual search, hoping to find some clue to the whereabouts of Mr. Damon, or to get some papers that would save his fortune.  But the search was unsuccessful.

There was a safe in the room Peters used for an office, but when Tom got there the strong box was open, and only some worthless documents remained.

“He smelled a rat, all right,” said Tom, grimly.  “After he telephoned to Mrs. Damon something happened that gave him an intimation that someone was after him.  So he got away as soon as he could.”

“But what are you going to do about it, Tom?”

“Get right after him.  He can’t have gotten very far.  I want him and I want Boylan.  We’re getting close to the end of the trail, Ned.”

“Yes, but we haven’t found Mr. Damon yet, and his fortune seems to have vanished.”