He did not occupy his bed that night, and he could not have explained why he did not do so. He kept telling himself that Richard Morton was nothing whatever to him; that it did not matter what had happened to the fellow; that Morton deserved death for what he had done--and a lot of other things of the same character. But all the while he paced the floor, and waited for information; or, he seated himself in a corner of the room and smoked like a furnace chimney. Just as daylight was breaking, while gazing through his window toward the eastward, he started, and asked himself, guiltily: "Am I hoping all the time that he is dead? Have I offered that thousand dollars only for assurance of his death?"
Fortunately, he was not compelled to reply to the self-accusing question, for there came a summons at his door, and an officer from headquarters entered to announce that, although diligent search and inquiry had been made in every conceivable quarter, not a word of information regarding Richard Morton could be obtained. Duncan listened in silence to the report, and, when it was finished, said: "Very well; continue the search. Find the man, or find out what became of him. I will defray all the expenses, and will pay the reward I offered, too. But I must have the information at once, and everything relative to this affair must be kept from the newspapers."
The officer had just gone when a ring at Duncan's telephone took him quickly to it--and the voice of Jack Gardner at the other end of the wire alarmed him unduly, considering that there was no known reason to feel alarm. Gardner, upon being assured that he was talking directly with his friend, said: "You'll have to pardon me, old chap, for calling you out of bed at this ungodly hour, but I just had to do it."
"You needn't worry, Jack. I haven't been in bed. What's up?" Duncan replied.
"Why; you see there is a mystery developed, just now. If you haven't been in bed, I have. I was called out of it by this confounded telephone--twice. The first call was to tell me that some sort of an accident had happened to Dick Morton. I couldn't gather what it was, and didn't really take much stock in it, so far as that goes. Then, the second call came. I was mad by that time, and didn't have very much to say to the chap at the other end of the wire--till Sally put me up to calling you."
"What was the second call about?" asked Duncan, gritting his teeth and almost fearing to hear what it might have been.