“Oh, boys!  I am so glad to see you!” cried Mrs. Rover.

“How are you, Aunt Martha!” returned Sam, leaping out and kissing her, an example speedily followed by his brothers.

“Very glad you came,” said Randolph Rover, a tall, thin, and studious-looking man, wearing big spectacles.  He shook hands all around.  “Come right into the house.”

“You haven’t any word from dad?” questioned Sam.

“Nothing, boys—­ and I do not know what to make of it.”

“It is a fearful state of affairs,” burst out Mrs. Rover, and tears stood in her motherly eyes.  “We cannot imagine what has happened to your father.”

“I sent another telegram to that hotel,” said Dick.  “I asked the manager to send his reply here.”

It was a rather sad home-coming, and even Tom felt much depressed in spirits.  All filed into the house and to the sitting-room, leaving Jack Ness and Aleck Pop to look after the automobile and the baggage.

“We ought to get a message from New York soon,” remarked Dick, after his uncle had related the little he had to tell about how Anderson Rover had gone away on the trip to the metropolis.  Evidently Randolph Rover knew little about the business that had taken his brother to the city.  He was no business man himself—­ being wrapped up in what he called scientific farming—­ and probably the boys’ father had not thought it worth while to take him into his confidence.

Dinner was on the table, and the boys went to the dining-room to eat.  But nobody had any appetite, and the fine repast prepared by the cook under Mrs. Rover’s directions, was much of a failure.  Once the telephone rang and the boys rushed to it.  But the call was only a local one, of little consequence.

“I think the best thing I can do will be to go over dad’s private papers,” said Dick, presently.  “They may give me a clew of where to look for him in New York.”

“That’s the talk!” cried Tom.  “Come on, let’s get busy.”  He hated to sit still at any time, and just at present inactivity was doubly irksome.

During the past year a room had been added to the house and this was used as a library and sort of office combined, being provided with a substantial safe and two roller-top desks.  One of the desks was used exclusively by Anderson Rover for his private letters and papers.  When sick the man had given Dick the extra key to the desk, telling him to keep it.  The father trusted his three sons implicitly, only keeping to himself such business affairs as he thought would not interest them.

The boys sat down and, led by Dick, began a careful inspection of the many letters and documents which the roller-top desk contained.  A large number of the papers and letters they knew had no bearing on the affair now in hand.  But presently Dick took up some letters of recent date and scanned them with interest.

“I guess this is what we are after!” he cried.