"I think I'll make out all right," Dick mused on. "But if worst comes to worst, I have a plan up my sleeve which I think will work." His eyes sparkled, and it was evident that he had just thought of some scheme. "That ought to do it," he said, speaking half aloud. "If I can't win any other way, I'll try that." "Well, Dick," remarked his father, the next morning, "I suppose you are all ready to go to Kentfield?" "Yes. I've got everything packed. What will be your address on the other side?" "Oh, yes, I must leave you that. Here it is. You can forward me letters in care of my London bankers, and they will see that I get them. I may have to put in some time on the continent. By the way, Dick, I hear that Captain Handlee called to see you last night." "Yes, he wants me to help him locate his missing son," and Dick told his father of the interview with the old soldier. "Poor man," remarked Mr. Hamilton, shaking his head, "I fear there is little hope for him. I once aided him in making some inquiries, but they came to nothing." "Do you know him?" "Oh, yes, I have often aided him, and I would do more for him, but he is too proud to accept charity. He is rather odd at times, and does not remain at any employment long, or I could give him a good place. His whole mind is set on finding his son. If the missing corporal could be located it would be the making of Captain Handlee, for he would settle down then." "I don't suppose I can help him." "No, I'm afraid not. Still, do all you can. It is barely possible that Major Webster, or some of the officers who are stationed at Kentfield, may be able to put you on the track, but I doubt it. Well, I think I'll have to go down to the bank now. I'll see you to-night, and say good-bye in the morning." Not long after Mr. Hamilton had left, and while Dick was in his room, packing some of his belongings, a maid who was new in the house came to inform him that a visitor was in the library. "Who is it?" he asked. "I don't know, but it's someone, Master Dick, who your dog doesn't like, for he's growling something fierce." "I'll come down," said the young millionaire, and he hurried to the library. As he entered a tall, thin man, with a curious little bunch of whiskers on his chin, arose. "Well, I must say, Nephew Richard," he began, in a rasping voice, "that this is a nice reception for me. Your horrible beast nearly bit me. The house is no place for dogs." "I'm sorry that Grit annoyed you, Uncle Ezra," said Dick as he recognized the miserly man whom he had once visited. "Hum!" grunted the old man. "If I hadn't stood on a chair he would have bit me, and then I'd get hydrophobia, and die. Your father would have had to pay damages, too." "I'm glad no such thing as that happened, Uncle Ezra." "Hum! Where's your father?" "Down to the bank. I can telephone, and let him know that you are here."