Curtiss, who had been staring at her stupidly, suddenly flushed and pulled himself erect.

"There she is!" he cried. "See-standing alone by that forward boat."

I stared with all my eyes. There was indeed a figure there-a woman clad in black-but the face was the merest blur.

"You think so?" I asked incredulously.

"I know so!" and he swung sharp round, his face alight with eagerness. "Come-there must be some way to catch her-a tug--"

He accosted the first blue-coated official he could find, but that worthy shook his head. No tug could catch the Umbria now; besides, there was none at hand to make the trial. By the time one could be secured, the ship would be far down the bay, settling into her speed. What was the trouble-a lady on board?

"Well, the best you can do is to meet her at Liverpool when she lands," he said.

"Meet her?" echoed Curtiss. "But how?"

"Take the Oceanic. She'll sail in half an hour from Pier 48, just below here. She'll reach Liverpool ahead of the Umbria-perhaps a day ahead."

I saw Curtiss's lips tighten with sudden resolution.

"Thank you," he said. "I'll do it."

There was nothing to be said. He was past arguing with, even had we felt like arguing-which I, for one, did not.

"I'll cable," he promised, as we stood in the shadow of the big liner, "and let you know if I find her."

"Have you money enough?" asked Mr. Royce. "Don't hesitate to say so, if you haven't."

Curtiss laughed bitterly.

"Oh, I've enough!" he said. "Quite a roll, in fact. I'd expected to spend it on a honeymoon!"

"You'll have the honeymoon yet," said Mr. Royce, with a certainty I thought a little forced. "What will you do for clothes?"

"I can make out some way till I get to the other side-the steward can help me."

Mr. Royce was again looking at him anxiously.

"I don't like it," he said, "your running off this way. You'll kill yourself."

"Oh, I'll be all right," Curtiss a.s.sured him. "A sea-voyage is just what would have been prescribed for me," and he attempted a smile.

"But you've got the worst stateroom on board," and indeed the Oceanic had been so crowded that he was fortunate to get that.

"No matter," said Curtiss. "I'd have gone if there'd been no place but the steerage."

"There's one thing," I said. "Have you an enemy in New York who might try to do you an injury? That would explain the letter, you know."

Curtiss thought for a moment with knitted brows. Then he shook his head.

"No," he said decidedly, "I have no enemy-certainly none who'd descend to stabbing me in the back. Besides, what could even the most unscrupulous enemy have written? How could he have hurt me? I can't understand it," he added wearily.

"Neither can I," I agreed. "It's beyond reasoning about."

"An enemy might have written a lie," suggested Mr. Royce.

"But Marcia wouldn't have believed it," retorted Curtiss. "I know her-she would have cast it from her. She trusted me. No; whatever the secret, it was one whose truth she could not doubt."

And I agreed with him.

We shook hands with him, at last; and when the great White Star ship swung out into the stream, he waved us a final good-bye from the deck.

"So he's gone," I said, as we rolled back down town again.

"Yes-and the question is whether he was wise to go-whether it can do any good."

"I think he's wise," I said. "It's a real pa.s.sion-as you yourself pointed out to me."

"A real pa.s.sion-yes," agreed our junior. "And yet-do you know, Lester, at the bottom of it all, I suspect some hideous, unbelievable thing. It turns me cold sometimes-trying to imagine what the secret is. It's a sort of dim, vague, threatening monster."

"Yes; I've felt that way about it. I can't grasp it, and yet I feel that it's there, just below the surface of things, ready to jump out and rend us. Well, Curtiss will find out."

"I hope so, if only for his sake. He'll go mad if he doesn't-and so will we, if we talk about it any more. I want you to look over those papers in the Consolidated suit. It comes up this afternoon, you know-and, by Jove! we'll have to hurry, or we'll be late for the hearing."

CHAPTER XIV

Recalled to the Front

Never were slippers and easy-chair more welcome to me than they were that night. I was thoroughly weary in mind as well as body, and as I dropped into the chair and donned the slippers, I determined to go early to bed, and to forget all about the Lawrence enigma. I was heartily glad that I was rid of it; it had proved so baffling, so discouraging that I rejoiced at the chance which had taken it out of my hands. Burr Curtiss must puzzle it out for himself.

I fancied I could see him, pacing up and down the deck of the Oceanic, staring ahead into the starlit night, bracing himself for that meeting which would mean so much to him. I wondered what Marcia Lawrence's thoughts were. Did she regret that she had fled? Did she already see the fatal error of that step? Ah, if her lover were only beside her, there on the deck, as he might have been but for that cruel irony of fate which had swept her from him! She could not know that he was pursuing her-that he would be the first to meet her as she stepped ash.o.r.e at Liverpool. How would she bear the shock of that meeting?

I had bought a copy of the last edition of the Record as I came up from dinner, and I shook it out and glanced over it. Apparently G.o.dfrey had discovered nothing new in the affair at Elizabeth, for the paper made absolutely no reference to it, so far as I could discover. No doubt he had returned to New York immediately after bidding me good-bye; by this time he was probably deep in the untangling of some other mystery for the benefit of the Record's readers. Sensations of to-day eclipsed those of yesterday, and I realised how quickly Burr Curtiss and his affairs would drop from the public mind.

But as I laid the paper aside, and filled my pipe for a final smoke before turning in, I told myself that I could scarcely hope that they would drop so easily from my mind, however much I might wish it; besides, I had left it unsolved and seemingly unsolvable, and a mystery of that sort is not easily forgotten. It is like an unfinished book, an unsettled case-it lives to oppress the mind and pique the imagination.

I knocked out my pipe impatiently. The place for me was in bed. I was becoming obsessed by this affair. If I did not shake it off, it would end by getting such a grip of me that I could not sleep at all, or I would fall asleep only to be startled awake again as I had been the night before. That was truly a terrifying prospect!

I started for my bedroom, when a tap at my door stopped me. I opened it to find Mrs. Fitch, my landlady, on the threshold.

"A telegram for you, Mr. Lester," she said, and held it out to me. "I told the boy to wait."

"Thank you," I said, and tore open the envelope. "There'll be no answer," I added, a moment later, and shut the door somewhat hastily I fear, but Mrs. Fitch's eyes are sharp ones, and I did not wish her to see my face just then.

I dropped into my chair and read the message again:-

"I advise you to return to Elizabeth at once. New developments in which you will be interested.

"G.o.dfrey."