"Take my advice," I went on earnestly, "and Mr. Royce's advice. Leave Elizabeth for a little while. There isn't much chance of my finding Miss Lawrence for a day or two. You must get your calmness and self-possession back, for you'll need them."
"Yes," he said hoarsely; "yes, I'll need them. Very well, I'll do as you say, Mr. Lester. Only it's deuced selfish of me to throw my troubles on your shoulders this way."
"Selfish nothing!" cried our junior. "Where will you go?"
"I don't know," answered Curtiss helplessly.
"Go to one of the beaches near New York. The sea-air and surf will do you good. Let us know where you are; then, if we want you, we won't have any trouble finding you, and you can get back here in an hour or two."
"There's one thing Mr. Curtiss can do," I said. "A photograph of Miss Lawrence might prove a great help."
"Why, of course," he assented, and thrust his hand into an inner pocket. But, after an instant's hesitation, he drew it out empty. "I can't give you that one," he said; "I must keep that one. I'll send you another. You're at the Sheridan?"
"Yes."
"I'll leave it there for you. But please don't use it unless you absolutely have to."
"I won't use it at all, if I can avoid it," I assured him. "I promise you that it won't go out of my hands."