have come to you--and hope you will pardon us for troubling you, Mr.
Oldfield--"

The club man saw that Mrs. Chester was not going to cry, and took
courage.

"We need your help," the lady continued, "and we are sure you will give
it to us."

"I shall be very glad if I can in any way assist or oblige you, Mrs.
Chester," Oldfield assured the elder lady, while he looked determinedly
away from the younger one, who, he was positive, was getting ready to
cry. "What do you want me to do? Ned isn't in any trouble is he?" This
was going straight to the point, as Mr. Oldfield knew full well.

Of course, Ned Chester was at the bottom of this spectacular disturbance
of his morning. It might as well be out and over the sooner.

"Oh! Mr. Oldfield," cried the daughter, "have you seen papa?"

She was bound to cry, if she hadn't already begun. Oldfield was sure of
it.

"Catherine!" expostulated the girl's mother, and Oldfield noticed the
sharp acrimony of voice and gesture. "Mr. Oldfield," she softened as
she addressed him, but there was a hardness about her every feature and
expression, "my husband has not been seen nor heard from since last
Sunday, when he left home, and I am almost distracted."

"And we have waited until we can bear it no longer. This is Friday--it
is almost a week," broke in the girl, ignoring her mother's protesting
wave of the hand and angry glance.

"Oh, he's all right," asserted Oldfield. "Don't worry. We will find him
at once; I'm sure some one in the club will know all about him. You
have, of course, inquired at his office?"

"Yes, and no one there knows anything about him. His letters lie
unopened on his desk; he has not been there since Saturday."

There was no occasion for all this fencing. The heaven's truth, known to
all three, was that Ned Chester was away on a symmetrical and gigantic
spree, according to his custom once or twice a year.

Oldfield, looking straight at Mrs. Chester's slightly bent brow, said,
quietly, "I have known Ned Chester for twenty years; it is no new thing
for him to be away for a day or a night occasionally, is it?"

"No," replied the poor wife, "but he has never stayed so long before,
and I know something has happened--he has been hurt, may be killed. We
must find him!"

"You say he left home Sunday?"

"Yes, Sunday evening. He left in a fit of anger over some little thing,
and now--"

She was dangerously near breaking down, and Oldfield could plainly hear
sm