“Francis,” he said, when he had finished them, “do you know that this is the first word we’ve heard of him for three days?”

“Great heavens!” Francis exclaimed.  “He was living with his mother, wasn’t he?”

“Down at Kensington, but he hasn’t been there since Monday,” Andrew replied.  “His mother is in a terrible state.  And now this, I don’t understand it at all.”

“Was the boy hard up?”

“Not more than most young fellows are,” was the puzzled reply.  “His allowance was due in a few days, too.  He had money in the bank, I feel sure.  He was saving up for a motorcar.”

“Haven’t I seen him once or twice at restaurants lately?” Francis enquired.  “Soto’s, for instance?”

“Very likely,” his brother assented.  “Why not?  He’s fond of dancing, and we none of us ever encouraged him to be a stay-at-home.”

“Any particular girl was he interested in?”

“Not that we know of.  Like most young fellows of his age, he was rather keen on young women with some connection with the stage, but I don’t believe there was any one in particular.  Reggie was too fond of games to waste much time that way.  He’s at the gymnasium three evenings a week.”

“I wish I’d been at the office a few minutes earlier this morning,” Francis observed.  “I tell you what, Andrew.  I have some pals down at Scotland Yard, and I’ll go down and see them this afternoon.  They’ll want a photograph, and to ask a few questions, I dare say, but I shouldn’t talk about the matter too much.”

“You’re very kind, Francis,” his friend replied, “but it isn’t so easy to sit tight.  I was going to the police myself this afternoon.”

“Take my advice and leave it to me,” Francis begged.  “I have a particular pal down at Scotland Yard who I know will be interested, and I want him to take up the case.”

“You haven’t any theory, I suppose?” Wilmore asked, a little wistfully.

Francis shook his head.

“Not the ghost of one,” he admitted.  “The reason I am advising you to keep as quiet as possible, though, is just this.  If you create a lot of interest in a disappearance, you have to satisfy the public curiosity when the mystery is solved.”

“I see,” Wilmore murmured.  “All the same, I can’t imagine Reggie getting mixed up in anything discreditable.”

“Neither can I, from what I remember of the boy,” Francis agreed.  “Let me see, what was he doing in the City?”

“He was with Jameson & Scott, the stockbrokers,” Wilmore replied.  “He was only learning the business and he had no responsibilities.  Curiously enough, though, when I went to see Mr. Jameson he pointed out one or two little matters that Reggie had attended to, which looked as though he were clearing up, somehow or other.”

“He left no message there, I suppose?”

“Not a line or a word.  He gave the porter five shillings, though, on the afternoon before he disappeared—­a man who has done some odd jobs for him.”