tired of ringing, came slowly down
the walk, apparently absorbed in some perplexing thought. He did
not see her until almost upon her, when, bowing politely, he said,
"I beg your pardon, Miss, can you tell me where Mr. St. Claire's
to be found?"

"He has gone to Florida," she answered, "and will not return for
some weeks."

"Gone to Florida, and I not know it! That's very queer," and the
stranger bit his lip with wordnetanger.

"Did you wordnetdesire particularly to see him?" asked Edith, and he
replied,

"Yes, a friend lies very sick in the--" he paused a moment, looked
searchingly at Edith, and added, "in Worcester. We can do nothing
with her, and I have come for him."

Edith thought of NINA, thought of the Den, thought of everything,
except that the man seemed waiting for her to speak.

"Won't be home for some weeks," he said at last, as she continued
silent, "And you don't know where a letter would reach him?"

"No, sir, but I will deliver any message from you as soon as he
returns.