“I am sorry. If I could think of anything or anywhere—”
“No, you must take me home, please,” said she. “It was selfish of me. Only Mademoiselle Idiale is such a wonderful person. Do you think that she will want you every night?”
“Of course not,” he laughed. “Come, I will make an engagement with you. We will have supper together to-morrow evening.”
She brightened up at once.
“I wonder,” she asked timidly, a few minutes afterwards, “have you heard anything from Arthur? He promised to send a telegram from Queenstown.”
Laverick shook his head. He said nothing about the marconigram he had sent, or the answer which he had received informing him that there was no such person on board. It seemed scarcely worth while to worry her.
“I have heard nothing,” he replied. “Of course, he must be half-way to America by now.”
“There have been no more inquiries about him?” she asked.
“No more than the usual ones from his friends, and a few creditors. The latter I am paying as they come. But there is one thing you ought to do with me. I think we ought to go to his rooms and lock up his papers and letters. He never even went back, you know, after that night.”
She nodded thoughtfully.