We shook hands. The shake, on his part, was cordial enough, perhaps, but not too cordial. It struck me that young Bayliss was neither as “fit” nor as forgetful as his fond parents wished to believe. He looked rather worn and nervous, it seemed to me. I asked him about his tramping trip and we chatted for a few moments. Then Bayliss, Senior, was called by Lady Carey and Handliss to join the discussion concerning the tournament rules and the young man and I were left alone together.
“Knowles,” he asked, the moment after his father's departure, “have you heard anything? Anything concerning—her?”
“No.”
“You're sure? You're not—”
“I am quite sure. We haven't heard nor do we expect to.”
He looked away across the course and I heard him draw a long breath.
“It's deucedly odd, this,” he said. “How she could disappear so entirely I don't understand. And you have no idea where she may be?”
“No.”
“But—but, confound it, man, aren't you trying to find her?”
“No.”