“Pshaw,” he said, looking up and down the street, “what am I worrying about? Got that Dale Wacker on my mind, and it has upset me. Markham is probably chatting with Bob Haven. Well, I’ve gone so far, I’ll step over to the printing office and see.” Frank walked rapidly to the principal street, and up the flight of stairs in a business block to Haven Bros.’s office. As he entered he noticed all hands busy at cases and presses. Bob, shirt sleeves rolled up, was working on some chases on an imposing stone. Darry was reading proof at his desk. But there was no Markham. Frank experienced a sensation of dread for which he could not account. He tried to keep cool, but the first word he spoke as he approached Darry made the latter look up quickly. “Got the money I sent you, Darry?” asked Frank. “Why, no--did you send it?” “Yes--over half-an-hour ago.” “Who by?” “Markham.” “Oh, then, he’s doing some other errand first,” said Darry. “Sit down, if you’re going to wait for him.” “No, I’ll watch them doing things,” answered Frank, with an assumed lightness of tone. He strolled about the neat little office, pretending to be interested. It was a dead failure. A lump of lead seemed bearing him down. Frank glanced at his watch. An hour had passed since he had sent Markham on his errand. “Be back soon, Darry,” he said, and went out of the printing office with a dull, sick feeling at heart. Frank returned to his office. Markham was not there. He went back to the print shop. “Markham been here yet?” he inquired in a failing voice to Darry. “Not yet, Frank.” “Then something’s wrong,” suddenly burst out Frank, unable longer to endure the strain of suspense and dread. “Why, how pale you are,” began Darry, rising from his chair. “Yes, Darry,” said Frank in a quivering tone--“Markham is missing, and with him my mailing lists and over two hundred dollars in cash.” CHAPTER XX A BAD BUSINESS Frank came down to the office the next morning looking haggard and troubled. Stet was hanging around the door. “Darry Haven told me to wait till you came down, and then let him know,” said the little fellow. “All right,” nodded Frank in a dull way. Stet darted off with his usual elfish nimbleness. Frank unlocked the door and sat down before his desk rather gloomily. He mechanically arranged some papers. Darry was with him before he had accomplished much. Stet accompanied him. “Well, Frank,” questioned Darry, “any word of Markham?” “Not a trace, Darry.” “Strange, isn’t it?” observed Darry in a musing way. “I declare I can’t understand it.” “Nor I,” said Frank. “It’s him I’m thinking of, not of myself. I haven’t slept a wink all night. Honest, Darry, if he was an own brother I couldn’t feel more anxious. Mother is quite as worried. I went everywhere about town last evening till the stores shut up. I telephoned several neighboring towns. I saw trainmen around the depot.”