Tom did not see, but he did not say so.  Not a word had been said about Mr. Rover and his interest—­ Mr. Pelter ignored Tom’s father entirely.  And yet the youth knew that his parent had fifty thousand dollars or more tied up in that very company!

“I’d like to know some of the people who have invested in this stock,” said Tom, after the matter had been talked over for nearly an hour.

“I will give you some names,” was the broker’s reply, and he wrote them down.  “They are the principal stockholders outside of ourselves.”

Tom took the list and glanced at it.  His father’s name did not appear, nor did the names of two other men he knew were interested in the concern.

“Thank you,” said the youth, rising.  “I will look into this.  It might be a good investment for me.”

“Finest in the world,” returned Jesse Pelter.  “Better let me put you down for five thousand dollars’ worth of shares to-day.”

“No, I want to think it over first.”

“Supposing I hold the shares for you until to-morrow?” went on the broker, persuasively.

“You can do that, if you wish,” answered Tom.

“Do you want to leave a deposit on them?”

“I didn’t bring any money with me—­ that is, not enough.”

“You might write out a check, Mr. Putnam.”

“No, I’ll think it over first.”

“Then I’ll hold the shares and look for you to-morrow,” returned Jesse Pelter, somewhat disappointedly.  He loved to get his hands on another’s money at the first interview.  “Please come in after lunch,” he added.  “I have an important engagement for the morning.”

With the map and prospectus and list of names in his pocket, Tom left the offices.  He saw that the man with the pointed chin and heavy eyebrows was not present.  The force consisted of Mr. Pelter, the office boy, a girl at a typewriter, and a very old man who was at the books.

“Japson must be keeping out of the way,” mused Tom, as he descended to the street.  “I wonder if it was he or old Crabtree who talked to Pelter over the ’phone?”

Tom soon rejoined his brothers and all three walked away from the vicinity of Wall street.  The youth told of his interview with the broker, and of the talk he had overheard while Jesse Pelter was at the telephone.

“They must have been talking about father!” cried Dick, eagerly.

“Maybe they have him a prisoner on a boat!” added Sam.

“It looks that way to me,” said Tom.  “And I know what I think we ought to do,” he continued.

“So do I,” answered Dick, quickly.  “Watch this Pelter to-morrow, when he leaves his home, and see where he goes to.”

“Right you are.”

“Where does he live?” questioned Sam.

“I don’t know, but we can easily find out.”

The boys presently passed an office building in which there was a large telephone station, and there they hunted up Jesse Pelter’s home address.