It was hardly sunrise when he went down to the office.
“I should like to speak to Mr. Lamont when he comes down,” he said to the clerk.
“He has gone,” was the reply. “He came down before his call and has gone to the train.”
“Maybe it is just as well,” thought Kurt. “There is really no message I could send to her.”
“See the picture last night?” asked the clerk chattily. “The Thief, or Meg O’ The Prairies. Great picture!”
“Yes; I saw it,” replied Kurt dismally.
“I always go to see Bobbie Burr. She’s my favorite. There was a girl here the other day who was a dead ringer for her. She had dinner with Lamont here. I read in a magazine that she gets a big salary. I forget the figures, but it was more per week than some folks earn in a lifetime.”
Kurt’s heart registered more downward beats.
He hung about the office until the dining-room was open and then went in and perfunctorily consumed some food. Later he called up an acquaintance and asked the loan of his car. It was sent around to the hotel, and he was just about to start for the ranch when a well-known voice behind him said:
“May I ride out to Top Hill with you?”