As the train crossed the road over which we had sped on our way to Oak Cliff, I recalled that it was at this exact spot where she first had called me "Jacques Henri." How happy I was that day! I thought of the terrors of the tornado and would have given all that I possessed to live through it again with her.

Handing my bags to the porter I hastened toward the club house. I was hurrying across the edge of the eighteenth green when someone shouted to me.

"h.e.l.lo, Smith!"

I turned and saw Marshall and Chilvers. Marshall pitched his ball to the green with more than his usual deliberation, and then they came toward me and I advanced to meet them.

"Where in thunder have you been?" asked Chilvers, and it suddenly occurred to me that I had told no one of my mission, neither had I left my address. The next instant I realised that Miss Harding had not told of the receipt of my letter. This might mean much or little.

"My Uncle Henry died out in New Mexico," I said.

"Too bad," said the sympathetic Chilvers. "Unless one of my uncles dies pretty soon I'll have to go to work. But why didn't you let us know where you were."

"I had just time to catch a train," I said. "What's the news?"

"News? Let's see?" reflected Chilvers. "Grandma Marshall, here, won the July cup, and our team won the match with South Meadows by a score of twenty-three to five. Say, we didn't do a thing to those boys. Moon has bought two new clubs, Boyd made the sixth hole in two, Duff won four dozen b.a.l.l.s from Monahan, Lawson has a new stance which he claims will lengthen out his drive twenty yards--and speaking about Lawson, he discovers something every week which lengthens his drive at least twenty yards. I've figured out that he should be driving at least five hundred yards from improvements alone. That's all the news I can think of; do you know any, Marshall?"

"They have moved the tee back on the seventh hole," volunteered Marshall, "and--oh, yes; Wallace has gone."

"Where's he gone?" I asked, exasperated at the character of their information.

"Someone died over in Scotland and left him money," said Chilvers. "Just as soon as we get a good professional, his rich relatives pa.s.s away and we lose him."

"How is Mr. Harding?" I asked.

I saw Chilvers wink at Marshall.

"Did you say Mr. Harding or Miss Harding?" asked Chilvers.

"I said Mr. Harding. What's the matter; are you deaf?"

"I'm a little hard of hearing at times," he grinned. "Let's see; when did Mr. Harding leave here, Marshall?"

"It was the day that you and I beat Boyd and Lawson," said Marshall, after a long pause. "That was a week ago."

"I presume he's in the city," I carelessly remarked.

"I presume he is not," laughed Chilvers. "He's probably rolling around in the English Channel right this minute."

"Gone abroad?"

"That's what."

"And Mrs. Harding?" I inquired.

"Gone with him, of course. Also Miss Harding."

"And Carter," added Marshall. "They all went on the same boat."

"At the same time," laughed Chilvers. "You see that lots of things have happened since you went away. What are you looking so white and glum about, Smith? Brace up, man; it may not be true. Come up to the club house. We've got a new brand of Scotch, and it's great."

I don't know whether my laugh sounded natural or not, but I cheerfully could have murdered both of them.

In those brief minutes I learned practically all I now know concerning the departure and the whereabouts of the Hardings and Carter. There was a lot of mail awaiting me, and I opened letter after letter hoping against hope that there might be one from Miss Harding. There was none.

I discreetly questioned Miss Ross, Miss Dangerfield and others whom I met, and all that I learned was this: A few days after my departure the Hardings suddenly decided to go to England, or France or Germany or somewhere. Carter was with them much of the time, but none of them talked of their plans, and all the hints dropped to me by the married and unmarried ladies of Woodvale were unproductive of information. They had been here; they were abroad--and that was all there was to it.

It was yet early in the day and I took the first train for the city and went straight to Mr. Harding's office. I am known to his representatives there. They told me that all they knew was that Mr. Harding had gone abroad to remain for a time.

"I a.s.sure you, Mr. Smith," said his private secretary, "that I do not know where he is. He said that his family was going with him, and that nothing possibly could happen here which would warrant bothering him. I am sure he would be glad to see you, and I can only advise you to call on his London bankers, who may have his address."

"Do you think the family are in England?" I asked, willing to accept the faintest clue.

"I have no more idea than have you," he replied and I am convinced he was telling the truth.

The "Oceanic" was the first boat to sail, and here I am. I doubt if a sane man ever went on so absurd and hopeless a quest. I have had nothing to do for several days but think over this situation, and the mystery of the sudden departure resolves itself into these two possibilities; first, that they have gone abroad to keep away from me; and, second, that they have gone to England for the purpose of celebrating the marriage of Carter and Miss Harding.

I do not see how I shall be of much use in either event. But this good ship is cleaving the water toward England at the rate of twenty-five knots an hour and I cannot turn back if I would.

I do not see how I am to stop the wedding. I remember that Carter once told me that if he ever married it would be in London. I suppose they are married before this time. Perhaps they will a.s.sume that I came across on purpose to congratulate them.

I cannot understand why Mr. Harding did not leave some word for me.

Surely I have not offended him?

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I cannot turn back if I would"]

I met and chatted with him a few minutes before Miss Harding said the words which have made me the most miserable of human beings.

This thing is past my solving. I only know that whatever she has done or whatever she may do I love her and ever shall love her.

ENTRY NO. XXIII

A FEW CLOSING CONFESSIONS

On my arrival in London I lost no time in presenting myself to Mr.

Harding's bankers. I also presented a letter of introduction from that gentleman's private secretary, and I presume these London financiers called a meeting of the board of directors to consider this weighty matter. I waited for hours, and was finally ushered into a private office. It was as dingy and inadequate as are most London offices, and I was properly impressed with its age, traditions and smells.

An old gentleman looked at me for a minute or two, and then took my letter of introduction from his desk. He read it carefully again, wiped his gla.s.ses and asked me if I were John Henry Smith. I a.s.sured him that to the best of my knowledge and belief I was.

He looked doubtfully at me, hesitated as if determined to make no mistake, sighed and then informed me that Mr. Harding had not left his address in their care. I was tempted to express the opinion that Mr.

Harding showed rare judgment in declining to leave it with them, since it doubtless would require an action at law to recover it in the event he should have use for it, but I thanked the aged man for all that they had done for me, and emerged from this gloomy den into the street.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "He looked doubtfully at me"]

This reed had broken. I never had much faith in it.