Jack Haydons Quest | Page 5

and was signed "Risley." Jack went across to the Doctor's house, sent up his name, and was bidden to go up to the study. Here he laid the cablegram before the Head.
"Who is Risley, Haydon?" asked Dr. Lawrence.
"My father's man, sir," replied Jack. "It seems to me that they must have got as far as Brindisi on their way home. I feel wretchedly uneasy. Something tells me that things have gone wrong with my father."
"Oh, I hope not," said Dr. Lawrence. "There is no word of ill-news here. The urgency may be quite on another score."
"I should like to start at once, sir," said Jack. "I know my way about the Continent very well. I have spent two or three vacations in Italy."
"Quite so, quite so," said Dr. Lawrence. "Have you plenty of money for the journey, Haydon?"
"I don't need more than sufficient to carry me to London, sir," replied Jack. "I shall go there to Mr. Buxton, my father's friend, who manages all his business affairs, and he will supply me with funds."
Jack was on fire to be off to Brindisi and see what was wrong. He made short work of his packing, and within an hour he was driving to Longhampton to catch the London express. He caught it with scarcely two minutes to spare, and was soon whirling towards the great city. A short distance from Longhampton, he caught a glimpse of Rushmere School in the distance on its hill, and the strip of heath country running up to the foot of the slope. This brought to mind his adventure, which remained as mysterious an affair as ever. The police had been most active, stations had been watched, inquiries had been made in every direction, but all to no result. The Thugs had vanished and left no trace behind. But the thought of his encounter on the heath soon faded from Jack's mind. It was crushed out by the pressing question of the moment. What was the matter at Brindisi? Why had Risley cabled and not his father? Had something happened to his father? Jack felt wretchedly uneasy, for he and his father were bound together by no ordinary ties of affection.
In the first place, he had, as far as he knew, no other living relation. His mother had been dead for many years, and his father was the only close friend that Jack knew. Then the elder Haydon had always been a great hero in his son's eyes. His profession of mining engineer had carried him into many wild corners of the world, and the store of marvellous tales which he would pour forth for the boy's delight had made Jack's holidays a time of intense pleasure. Mr. Haydon had always made a point, if it was possible, of keeping himself free for such times, and he and Jack had spent the weeks joyously, until the day for return to school had become a Black Monday indeed in the boy's eyes.
As Jack mused over memories of other days, his anxiety to know what was wrong at Brindisi grew moment by moment, and the flying express seemed to crawl, so great was his impatience to be in London, where he expected to get further news from Mr. Buxton. But he was destined to learn something long before he saw Mr. Buxton. The express screamed into an important junction and pulled up for five minutes. Three fellow-passengers got out, and left Jack to himself. A boy came along the platform shouting, "London Pay-pers," and Jack bought a Daily Telegraph.
He turned to the football news, and was reading it, when the train pulled out and shot forward once more towards London. But the accounts of his beloved sport failed to interest him, and he turned the paper over listlessly, idly scanning one big sheet after another. Suddenly the word imprinted on his brain caught his eye. "Brindisi"--here was some scrap of news from Brindisi.
What was it? Jack folded the paper, and then a second name seemed to leap at him from the sheet. His own name! Haydon, Brindisi. What now? His eyes darted over the paragraph, and he drew a long, gasping breath. This, then, was the explanation of the cablegram. Over and over again Jack read the paragraph, striving to grasp what it all meant, striving to seize the inner meaning. The paragraph was short and to the point. It ran:--
"STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE.
"FROM OUR OWN CORRESPONDENT.
"BRINDISI, Tuesday.
"There is much stir here over the mysterious disappearance of Mr. Thomas Haydon, the famous mining expert and engineer. He arrived here on Sunday, and it was believed that he intended to travel to England by the mail-train. He went for a walk on Sunday evening, but did not return to his hotel, where his man and his baggage were awaiting him. Since