nered, intimidated, maybe attacked by Wacker. He thought of that two hundred dollars, and dropped it behind the fuel box. Then—"
Frank paused here, and shook his head in doubt and perplexity.
"Poor Markham," commented Bob. "It looks likely that he is held a prisoner somewhere. Maybe because his captor knows he threw away that package of money, and won't let him go free till he tells where. Anyhow, he's a good one, surmounting all the difficulties of his situation and getting that letter to you."
"I suppose you will take up the mail order business actively again, now you are in funds?" suggested Darry.
"Surely," said Frank. "Here, take the money and hurry up the catalogue."
Frank felt immensely relieved as he proceeded to his office. His mind, however, was full of plans looking to the discovery of Markham's place of captivity.
The letter had been mailed at Hazelhurst, a mining town about thirty miles distant. Frank noted this fact, determining to make that town the starting point of his investigations, as soon as he got present pressing business in such a shape that
