"My dear madam, forgive my haste; but I will explain everything to you later. I must run off now to tell Mr. Goodchild the good news."
"Why, where's Mr. Goodchild?"
"Staying at the 'Orient,' by my advice. But now, one more question, madam—Do you know where Wyckliffe is now?"
"He's yachting off Port Arthur. I sent a telegram on to him to-day, which had been waiting here for him for two days." Here, the entrance of a maid-servant for instructions, gave Hal the opportunity of leaving; and, taking a cab, he was soon back at the "Orient."
"It's all right, Reg," he shouted. "Where's Goody?"
"He's in the drawing-room, pacing it like a wild beast in a cage."
"Good news, Mr. Goodchild. They have not met yet," said Hal, shaking him by the hand.
"Thank God!" said the old man, fervently, and the relief was so great, that he sank on his knees by the sofa.
Hal and Reg left the room: the old man's thankfulness was too sacred to be overlooked.
"Have you found him?" asked Reg.