“Very good. I’ll be there,” Chick nodded, turning to go. They had emerged from the basement while speaking, and Nick and Patsy now began seeking the trail of the missing man. Neither in the driveway, nor on the surrounding lawns, could they discover any sign of a bare footprint, however, and Nick paused after a few moments and said: “We must use our heads and determine what direction he naturally would have taken. He would not have ventured to the lighted streets. He would have known he might be seen and arrested.” “That would have been very probable, chief, for fair,” said Patsy. “He may have crossed the rear grounds, therefore, and perhaps saw that house which fronts on the avenue. The roof could have been seen above the trees, even in the darkness.” “That’s right, too.” “We’ll go that way, Patsy, and see what we can learn. Keep your eyes open for footprints.” “Bet you!” said Patsy sententiously. It took them only a few minutes to cross the Dabney grounds, when they brought up at a low wall flanking the rear of the estate Nick had noticed when he first arrived in that locality. It now struck him even more familiarly, though he never had seen the rear grounds, nor that side of the imposing wooden residence. “Come on,” he said, leaping over the wall. “The direct course, if Margate had his head and really came this way, would have been around the garage and across the side lawn.” “Sure, chief, if he was heading for the house,” said Patsy. “A dwelling is where he most likely would have sought clothing,” Nick replied. “A knave as desperate as he and as sorely in need of garments would not have shrunk from breaking in and----” “Gee! half a minute, chief,” Patsy now cried, interrupting. “Yes, I’m right. Here’s the print of a bare foot.” Patsy had discovered it in some loose earth near the garage and hastened to inspect it. There was no mistaking it, for it was distinctly outlined in the damp soil, and it showed plainly in which direction the man was going. “He was heading for the house, chief, just as you have suspected,” Patsy added, turning to look for another. “I was sure he would seek some dwelling,” Nick replied. “Which one was the only question. It naturally would be the one most safely and quickly approached, and that was why I came this way. We’ll inquire whether anything has been stolen, or--hello! some one is calling my name. By Jove, it’s Senator Barclay. That explains it. I thought I recognized this place, though I have called here only twice.” “Gee! he’s some excited, chief,” said Patsy. “I guess you have hit the nail on the head, all right.” Senator Barclay, who had emerged from a side door of the house, had been hurrying toward them while they were speaking. He was hatless and wore a loose velvet smoking jacket, and he looked pale and excited, indeed, in the morning sunlight.