But it was certainly known that Harry had been calling on Le Mire
at her hotel; conjectures were sure to be made, leading to the
assertions of busy tongues; and it was the part of my friend to
counteract and smother the inevitable gossip. This he promised to
do; and I knew Billy. As for finding Harry, it was too late to do
anything that night, and I went home and to bed.

The next morning I began by calling at her hotel. But though the
manager of the theater had gotten no information from them, he
had pumped them dry. They knew nothing.

I dared not go to the police, and probably they would have been
unable to give me any assistance if I had sought it. The only
other possible source of information I disliked to use; but after
racking my brain for the better part of the day I decided that
there was nothing else for it, and started on a round of the
ticket offices of the railroads and steamship companies.

I had immediate success. My first call was at the office where
Harry and I were accustomed to arrange our transportation. As I
entered the head clerk--or whatever they call him--advanced to
greet me with a smile.

"Yes," said he in response to my question; "Mr. Lamar got his
tickets from me. Let's see--Thursday, wasn't it? No, Friday.
That's right--Friday."

"Tickets!" I muttered to myself. And in my preoccupation I
really neglected to listen to him. Then aloud: "Where were the--