She shook her head.
“I must go alone,” she said, quietly. “You would only be in the way. I know the neighborhood and the people. They will tell me more if I am alone.”
She was away until midnight. When at last she returned I saw at once by her face that she had been unsuccessful.
“There is no clue, then?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“None.”
We sat and looked at one another in silence.
“To-morrow,” she said, “I will try again.”
But to-morrow came and went, and we were still hopelessly in the dark. On the morning of the third day we were in despair. Then, as we sat over our breakfast, almost in despair, a letter was brought to me. It was from Alice, and enclosed in it was one from my father.