"Ought to be here now."
"Then I'll wait," and Dick dropped on a chair. He had hardly done so when the door opened and a burly individual hurried in. He gave Dick an inquiring look.
"Wants to see you, Mr. Pelter," said the office boy. "Just came in."
"Want to see me? What is it?" and the head of the brokerage firm stepped up to Dick.
"You are Mr. Pelter?"
"Yes."
"I am Richard Rover—Anderson Rover's son."
"Ah! indeed!" cried Jesse Pelter, and gave a slight start. "Glad to meet you, Mr. Rover," and he held out his hand. "Will you—er—step into my office?"
He led the way through two offices to one in the extreme rear. This was well furnished, with a desk, a table, several chairs and a bookcase filled with legal-looking volumes. In one corner was a telephone booth, and a telephone connection also rested on the desk.
"I came to see about my father," said Dick, as he sat down in a chair to which the broker motioned.
"You mean, about your father's business, I suppose."
