Nancy first and last

by Amy Ella Blanchard

"What does Mr. Garriguez say?"

"He thinks we shall find him. He advises us to go to this place where he boarded, and to follow up whatever clue we may be able to get."

This news put all thoughts of serenades and dances out of Anita's mind. She and her mother gave themselves up to speculations, to planning what they would do when they found Pepé, and the next morning they started off early to the factory suburb of Sans where the address led them.

It was a more decent place than that which they had first visited, though plain enough, a house for the lodging of the mill hands, sufficiently near the factory to be convenient. The woman, who kept it, a sharp-eyed rough-voiced individual, remembered Pepé very well. "Because of his violin it was," she told them; "always the violin. He had gone, yes, oh, yes, some time ago. An Ingles became interested in him and took him away with him. He might have been an American, she did not know, but at all events, he was attracted by the boy's playing and took him into his employ as guide or courier, or chauffeur or something of that kind."

"Did she know the name of the Englishman?"

"No, she did not know if she had ever heard it. He might be in the city. Yes, he might well be. No, she didn't think he had many intimate friends. He did not like the ways of the mill hands. They were too rough for him. The young people called him the caballero, for he was so aloof, so finnikin, and they made fun of him. He cared more for his violin than for sweethearts or jolly comrades, and they called his violin his señorita. No, she hadn't an idea where he had gone. He had never been back, which was not strange when one considered the kind of joven he was. The woman was communicative enough and good-hearted enough, in spite of her roughness, but they could get no more than this from her.

"It is something," said Anita as they turned away.

"It is a great deal," acknowledged Mrs. Beltrán, "yet, it will be harder to find him. He has disappeared and leaves no trace behind. We will go to see Mr. Garriguez."

This excellent gentleman, quiet, dignified, but greatly interested withal, lent an attentive ear to their report. He sat thoughtfully drumming on his desk with his lean brown fingers, after the tale was ended. "We must investigate further," he said at last. "We must discover who is this Ingles. There must be some way of doing this. I will consider, and then we will use such means as are possible. This is a hopeful clue, señora, and we shall follow it up vigorously. Go home and rest in tranquillity. I will report when there is news. No, do not say these words of thanks. I am enjoying myself. It is a plot, a novel in which I am a part, a very small part. It is a relief from the more sordid life of every day. I repeat that I enjoy this."

So again they took their leave to await events and to feel consoled by the calm and practical coadjutor who was so ready to take all responsibility upon his own shoulders.