Dashwood nodded. "I have been lucky, I know, and the greatest piece of luck that ever came in my way, Mr. Leonard, was when I made your daughter my wife." As he spoke, pride and satisfaction, strong and deep, were expressed in his honest countenance. "Letty ought to have heard that pretty speech," said Leonard lightly, though in his heart he was vastly pleased with his son-in-law's appreciation of the treasure he had won. Nick accompanied his friend up-town that morning and left him at a large building on Market Street, a few blocks from the Union Depot, with the understanding that they should dine together in the afternoon. John Dashwood was the manager of a manufacturing company of which Gabriel Leonard was the president. His parents were dead and he lived with his father-in-law, who was a widower. The friends took dinner in an Olive Street restaurant. Dashwood's brow was clouded throughout the meal. "What's the matter, John?" Nick asked. "Anything wrong in the office?" "I hope not; but a good bit of money has come in lately, and the books do not show what they ought to show." "Did you find any pronounced irregularities?" "I have found something that excites my suspicions, but I can't make sure that there has been crooked work until I have gone over the books thoroughly and compared vouchers, and so forth. I shall work at them to-night, for I know I sha'n't sleep a wink until I have matters straightened out. It's lucky Letty is away on a visit to Chicago, or she would be terribly worried over the muddle." Nick looked grave. "John," he said earnestly, "there may be more in this than you have any idea of. What do you say? May I come round to-night and give you the benefit of my experience?" "Yes. I shall be glad to have you. Come at, say, nine o'clock." "All right." It was six o'clock when they parted. At nine Nick went up the elevator to the floor upon which was located the office of the manufacturing company. He knocked at the door, but there was no answer. He waited a moment and knocked again. Still no answer. By means of the keyhole he saw that there was no light in the office. Dashwood, then, was not there. Something must have happened, something out of the ordinary, to cause this punctiliously honorable young man to slight an appointment with a friend. The detective instantly attributed Dashwood's absence to an alarming discovery made while examining the books and accounts of the firm. Perhaps he had gone home. In a saloon below, next door to the entrance, was a phone. Nick used it to call up Gabriel Leonard's residence. The housekeeper answered. Neither Mr. Dashwood nor Mr. Leonard was at home. Didn't know where either might be found. Had Mr. Carter gone out to the fair-grounds?