“What did this Barton Pelter want?” asked Sam.

“He wanted to see his uncle.  He knew that the firm had sold out to you folks, but he was not certain if they had moved away yet.  When I told him that his uncle was gone, he looked kind of disappointed.”

“Was he in this office, Bob?” questioned Dick.

“No, sir, he was only in the outside office.”

“Did he say anything about bonds or money?”

“No, sir.”

“Say, tell me something!” broke in Tom.  “Were this Barton Pelter and his uncle on good terms?”

“They used to be,” replied the office boy, “but once or twice they had some pretty warm talks.  This young feller didn’t like it at all the way his uncle treated your father.  I heard him tell his uncle once, that what he was doing was close to swindling.  Then Mr. Pelter got awful mad, and told him he had better get out.”

“Good for Barton!” murmured Sam.  “He can’t be such a bad sort.”

“Oh, I guess he was all right,” put in the office boy, with the freedom that seemed natural to him.  “Only I guess he was dependent on his uncle for money.  Maybe if it wasn’t for that, he would have pitched into his uncle more than he did.  But say!  You said something was stolen.  What was it?”

“Sixty-four thousand dollars in bonds,” answered Dick.

“What!  Say, boss, ain’t you kiddin’?” and the boy looked incredulous.

“No, it is the truth, Bob.  Somebody took a box out of that safe that contained sixty-four thousand dollars’ worth of bonds.”

“Great smoke!  I didn’t think there was that many bonds in the hull building!” cried the boy, with emphasis.

“I only expected to keep them here a few days,” went on Dick.  “Later on, of course, I would have placed them in a safe deposit vault.”

“Say, boss! you sure don’t think that I took them bonds?” cried the office boy.

“No, I don’t, Bob.  But somebody took them, and we’ve got to find them.”

“Sure, we’ve got to find them!” cried Bob.  “Say, do you want me to call the janitor?  Maybe he knows something about it.”

“Yes, you may call him, but don’t tell him what we want him for,” answered Dick.

CHAPTER XIX

 The first clew

The janitor of the building was Mike Donovan, an aged Irishman, who was assisted in his work by his wife and his daughter Kittie, aged about fifteen.

“’Tis me yez want to see?” queried Donovan, as he shuffled into the inner office, hat in hand.

“You are the janitor of this building?” questioned Dick, looking him over carefully.

“I am that, sur.”

“Can you tell me who is in the habit of cleaning this particular office?”

“Well, sur, we are all after takin’ a hand at it.  I ginerally do the swapin’, and me wife or Kittie, me daughter, do the winder clanin’ an’ the dustin’.”