“I am afraid he is deep,” said the doctor, thoughtfully.
“Very deep or very shallow,” said the Resident. “Some day, perhaps, we shall know. You are going up the river, then? When do you start?”
“As soon as I have had a little chat upon the subject with you know. I will not be very long away, Harley, and you will take care of my people like the rest—I mean have an eye on home.”
“Go, and good luck go with you,” said the Resident warmly. “Trust me, Bolter, I will do my best.”
“You don’t think, then, I ought to stay?”
“No; we have done all we can. Who knows but what you may hit upon some clue in your wanderings.”
“Ah! who knows!” said the doctor. “More wonderful things have happened, eh?”
“Chance sometimes solves problems that hard work has not mastered, Bolter,” said the Resident, smiling. “There, good-bye!”
“Good-bye,” said the doctor, shaking hands heartily; and leaving Neil Harley’s room, he began to wipe his face.
“I’m afraid I’ve been acting like a terrible humbug,” he muttered, “for I have not the remotest hope of finding Helen Perowne. I wish I were not such a moral coward over such things as this. Poor old Harley! he’s terribly cut up about matters, and I must seem strangely unfeeling. What a girl that was!