Chapter XXV. Anxious Inquiries

After a while Grant learned the particulars about Herbert's disappearance. He had gone out to play in the street about three o'clock in the afternoon. Generally he waited for Grant to return-home, but during his absence he had found other companions. When his father returned home, he inquired of the housekeeper: "Where is Herbert?"

"He went out to play," said Mrs. Estabrook, indifferently.

"In the street?"

"I believe so."

"He ought to be in by this time."

"Probably he went to walk with some of his companions. As he had no watch, he might not know that it is so late."

This seemed very plausible to Mr. Reynolds.

"Yes," he said; "Herbert seems lost without Grant. He will be glad to see him back."

To this Mrs. Estabrook did not reply. She had learned, to her cost, that it would not be politic to speak against Grant, and she was not disposed to praise him. She seldom mentioned him at all.

The dinner bell rang, and still Herbert had not returned. His father began to feel anxious.

"It is strange that Herbert remains so long away," he said.

"I shouldn't wonder if he had gone to Central Park on some excursion," returned the housekeeper calmly.

"You think there is nothing wrong?" asked the broker, anxiously.

"How could there be here, sir?" answered Mrs. Estabrook, with unruffled demeanor.

This answer helped to calm Mr. Reynolds, who ordered dinner delayed half an hour.

When, however, an hour--two hours--passed, and the little boy still remained absent, the father's anxiety became insupportable. He merely tasted a few spoonfuls of soup, and found it impossible to eat more. The housekeeper, on the contrary, seemed quite unconcerned, and showed her usual appetite.

"I am seriously anxious, Mrs. Estabrook," said the broker. "I will take my hat and go out to see if I can gain any information. Should Herbert return while I am away, give him his supper, and, if he is tired, let him go to bed, just finding out why he was out so late."

"Very well, sir."

When Mr. Reynolds had left the house a singular expression of gratified malice swept over the housekeeper's face. "It is just retribution," she murmured. "He condemned and discharged my stepson for the sin of another. Now it is his own heart that bleeds."

Only a few steps from his own door the broker met a boy about two years older than Herbert, with whom the latter sometimes played.

"Harvey," he said, "have you seen Herbert this afternoon?"

"Yes, sir; I saw him about three o'clock."

"Where?" asked the broker, anxiously.

"Just 'round the corner of the