"Now, look here, Bob, old man," said Will, and he put a hand on one of Robert's shoulders. "What's the good in it now? Don't you see she'll be hotter than ever on this thing just now? Wait till she cools off a bit. That's the idea!"
"Oh, it isn't to dissuade her. I don't care about that. It's simply to find out if she's all right. She may need help of some kind or other. She's a proud girl. Good heavens, she isn't going to send for any one. I don't know what we've been thinking of—a whole year down in this place, and no knowledge of what kind of a life she's had to live. That isn't right—no. Lucy, if you'll be kind enough to give me that address, I'll be off."
"I don't believe you can trace her through that."
"I'll see to that end of it." He was really almost sharp with me.
"What do you think, Will?" I inquired.
"Oh, give it to him, give it to him, my dear."
And so I did at last.
Will and I went to the theater that night, and supper afterward. It was after midnight when we strolled into the hotel. Robert Jennings was sitting in one of the big chairs in the corridor with a paper up before his face. Will had gone to the desk to get our key, and I went up and spoke to Bob.
"Well, hello!" I blurted out cheerfully. "What success? Did you see her?"
He stood up, and I saw his face then.
"Yes, I saw her," he replied, then with difficulty
