himself and the dog, arriving home the next day at noon.
"Well," remarked Mr. Hamilton, as his son came in with Grit, "your detective work was all right."
"Yes, thanks to Henry Darby," answered the son. "I'm going to send him a check for a hundred dollars," which he proceeded to do.
"Here are a couple of letters for you," went on the millionaire, handing the missives to his son. One proved to be a note from Guy Fletcher. He had heard what had occurred regarding the dog, for Mr. Hamilton told several friends of his son's telegram, and Guy hastened to assure Dick that he had no idea of Simon's scheme.
"He told me he was only going to play a joke on you," wrote Guy, in the note which was delivered by a messenger. "He took the leash from your pocket the night of the party, and said he was going to hide Grit and make you believe he was stolen. I hope you don't believe I'd have anything to do with Simon if I thought he intended to really steal your dog. He has gone out West, I hear, somewhere in the gold mine region. My father has forbidden me to ever speak to Simon again."
"I guess you'll not get a chance right away," murmured Dick.
The whole thing was plain to him now. Simon wanted money, and thought he could make it by getting the man and youth to steal Grit, and then
