THE WRECK OF THE "LADY ALICE"
After Hazel had restored her chum to consciousness she sat looking at her for a long time before either spoke.
"I did not know, Jane," said Hazel, in a constrained voice, "that you knew Mr. Caldwell so intimately that his death could prove such a shock to you."
"John Caldwell?" questioned Miss Porter. "You do not mean to tell me that you do not know who this man was, Hazel?"
"Why, yes, Jane; I know perfectly well who he was—his name was John Caldwell; he was from London."
"Oh, Hazel, I wish I could believe it," moaned the girl. "I wish I could believe it, but those features are burned so deep into my memory and my heart that I should recognize them anywhere in the world from among a thousand others, who might appear identical to any one but me."
"What do you mean, Jane?" cried Hazel, now thoroughly alarmed. "Who do you think it is?"
"I don't think, Hazel. I know that that is a picture of Tarzan of the Apes."
"Jane!"
"I cannot be mistaken. Oh, Hazel, are you sure that he is dead? Can there be no mistake?"
"I am afraid not, dear," answered Hazel sadly. "I wish I could think that you are mistaken, but now a hundred and one little pieces of corroborative evidence occur to me that meant nothing to me while I thought that he was John Caldwell, of London. He
[181]
