"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 smothered sobs beside him on the side of his chair toward which he chose not to look. "I will inquire," he said, hopefully, "and I know I can find him almost immediately. Nothing has happened to hurt him. Sit here a moment and wait for me." Just outside the door Oldfield met Joseph. "Well, where is he?" he asked. "Mr. Oldfield, I tell you Mr. Chester has on a most awful jag, and he fell and almost split open his skull Tuesday morning, and I've had him over at the Barrett House ever since. The doctor has patched him up, but he ain't fit to be seen, not by ladies." "Pretty nervous, is he?" "Nervous! Why, he's just missed snakes this time, that's all!" "Oh, nonsense! He's not so bad as that; but I must go and see him. When did you see him last?"