On receipt of the despatch reproduced at the close of the last chapter Mr. Wentworth started immediately for Ilium, and had an interview with Dr. McIntire.

“When did my son leave Ilium?” he asked.

“Two days ago, probably. He was not at recitations, but I received a note saying he was sick with the influenza. This seemed natural, for I have myself been suffering from the same malady, and therefore my suspicions were not excited. When the next morning Victor also absented himself I sent around to his boarding-house, and learned that he and a school friend of his—Arthur Grigson—had not been seen for twenty-four hours. Their trunks were left, but each had taken a valise, filled with clothing, as may be presumed, for the bureau drawers were empty. It is clear that the flight was premeditated. Can you furnish me with any clew, Mr. Wentworth, to the probable cause of this escapade?”

“Only this, that Victor in his last letter asked permission to go off on a trip with this boy, Arthur Grigson. He wished to leave school and travel for a year.”

“That explains it. You refused, I presume?”

“Yes, emphatically.”

“Your son then has gone without leave.”

“It would seem so. What is the character of this Arthur Grigson?”

“He is from Syracuse, in New York State. I believe he has no immediate family, but is under the charge of a guardian, who lets him do pretty much as he pleases. Had your son any money, do you think?”

“I had just sent him fifty dollars to settle his board bill for the month, with a margin for his own personal use.”

“Probably he used the money to travel with. It may be well to inquire at his boarding-house if he has paid his board.”

This Mr. Wentworth did, and ascertained that the bill was still unpaid. He returned to the principal with this information.

“What would you advise me to do?” he inquired in some perplexity.

“I will advise you, but you may not be willing to adopt my advice.”

“At any rate I shall be glad to have your views, for I am in great doubt.”

“I would make no effort to recover the fugitive.”

“What!” exclaimed Bradley Wentworth startled, “would you have me abandon my only son to his own devices?”

“Only for a time. You might, of course, secure the services of a detective to pursue him, but that would be expensive and probably would do no good.”

“But I don’t like to return home without an effort to recover Victor.”

“Listen to me, Mr. Wentworth. How old is your son?”

“Seventeen.”

“Then he ought to be able to look out for himself in a measure. I predict that it won’t be long before you hear from him.”

“What leads you to think so?”

“Victor left school with only fifty dollars in his pocket. That sum won’t last long. His companion no doubt had more, for his guardian foolishly supplied him with money very liberally. But, at any rate, it won’t be long before the two boys will be at the end of their resources. Then the natural thing will be for each to write for money to get home. When you receive your son’s letter you will, of course, learn where he is, and can seek him out and take him home.”

“Your advice is most judicious, Dr. McIntire,” said Mr. Wentworth brightening up. “I shall adopt it. I shan’t be sorry if the young scapegrace gets into trouble and suffers for his folly.”

“I hope, Mr. Wentworth, you don’t blame me in the matter.”

“No, Dr. McIntire, I blame no one but the boy himself. Your suggestions have entirely changed my intentions. I did propose to advertise a reward to any one who would send me information of the missing boy, but now I shall do nothing of the kind. I will trust to time and the want of money to restore Victor to his senses.”

Mr. Wentworth settled all Victor’s debts in Ilium, and when his task was finished returned to Seneca.

“The boy needn’t think I am going to make a fuss about him. It would be making him of altogether too much importance. I think I can afford to wait quite as well as he can.”

“Did you see Mr. Victor?” inquired the housekeeper when he returned home.

“No, Mrs. Bancroft.”

“I thought you went to Ilium, sir.”

“So I did.”

“And did not call on Mr. Victor?”

“Victor isn’t at Ilium. He has gone away on a little journey with a school companion.”

Mrs. Bancroft looked surprised.

“Will he be gone long?” she ventured to inquire.

“It is not decided,” answered Wentworth. From his manner the housekeeper understood that he did not care to be interrogated further. She would like to have asked where Victor had gone, for she felt some affection for the boy whom she had known since he wore knickerbockers, but she reflected that when letters were received the postmark would reveal what she desired to know. Accordingly she waited eagerly, but so far as she could learn no letters came from the absent boy. She grew anxious, but Bradley Wentworth seemed calm and imperturbable.

“Master Victor must be all right,” she concluded, “or his father would look anxious.”

One morning Mrs. Bancroft found in the mail a letter dated Gulchville, Colorado, but the address was evidently written by an uneducated person not much in the habit of holding the pen. It couldn’t be from Victor, whose handwriting was very good, but Mrs. Bancroft reflected in alarm that he might be sick and unable to write for himself, and had employed an illiterate amanuensis.

She looked closely at Mr. Wentworth when he read the letter at the breakfast table. He seemed surprised, but that was the only emotion which the housekeeper could detect.

He laid the letter down without a word, having read it apparently with some difficulty.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Wentworth,” said Mrs. Bancroft, “but does the letter give any news of Master Victor?”

“No; what should make you think it did, Mrs. Bancroft?”

“I noticed that it was postmarked in Colorado.”

“True, but I don’t expect Victor to go so far, I have acquaintances in Colorado.”

That was the only information vouchsafed to Mrs. Bancroft.

“I’m a poor woman,” she said to herself, “but I’d freely give ten dollars to know just where Master Victor is. I’m afraid he’s a little wild, and don’t like study, but I haven’t forgotten what a nice little boy he was, and how he used to kiss the old housekeeper. He’s got a good heart, has Victor. It’s very mysterious his going away so sudden-like. Mr. Wentworth evidently doesn’t want me to know where he is. Maybe he’s sent him to one of them strict military schools, where he’ll be ruled with a rod of iron. I only wish I could see him for just five minutes.”

The mysterious letter (not to keep the reader in doubt) was written by our old acquaintance Jake Amsden, and we will reproduce it here, correcting the orthography, which deviated considerably from the standards set by the best writers.

Why Mr. Amsden signed himself Esq. is not altogether clear. As he had expressed a hope to go to Congress some day he perhaps wanted to keep up his dignity.

Mr. Wentworth returned the following answer to this letter:

He did not, however, address this to Jake Amsden, Esq., rather to the disappointment of his gifted correspondent. But Jake found substantial consolation in the five dollars enclosed, which soon found its way into the coffers of Pete Johnson.