"And do you think I shall find him, uncle?" asked Clara, eager for encouraging words.
"I hope so, my child, I hope so. It does not seem possible that this affair will resolve itself into an unfathomable mystery. There are few such things in real life, you know, and if the worst had happened to Strobel, we would have heard of it."
"It gives me new courage to hear you say so," said Clara looking wistfully at her uncle, "I wanted to speak to you simply to let you know that nothing troublesome has happened, and that it is my intention to return to Boston as soon as possible, though I don't know what I can do after I get there."
"I would rest if I were you, Clara."
"I cannot think of rest now. We will see. Something may happen to give me a fresh start, or I may discover a new clew in something I already know, the significance of which I have overlooked."
"Don't try to do too much; rest if you can," pleaded Mr. Pembroke. "I shall return myself to-night."
"Do you want me to wait and go with you?"
"I wouldn't," exclaimed her uncle, hastily; "you'll find the journey nothing by daylight, and it might be fatiguing at night. You are familiar with it, and don't mind traveling alone for so short a time, do you?"
"Not at all. I merely thought you might want me to wait."
"No, Dexter will have to be with me. I will be with you at home in time for breakfast. You'll take the noon train I suppose? Good-by."