Fortunately, he found one true and tried friend before he had been in the city long, and together they worked and waited for clues that should lead to his loved one's speedy recovery. Weeks went by while he patiently searched, and four months after the disappearance of Stella, Sir Frederic, disgusted with his foolish chase across the water, was sadly preparing to return. On the last Sunday afternoon of his stay he went with his friend for a farewell drive through the magnificent boulevards of Central Park.
The day was perfect, and carriages of every description, from the private liveried turnout to the hired cab and rustic country wagon, were ambling along, filled with men, women and children, all bent on securing as much pure air and sunshine as was obtainable during the short afternoon. Suddenly, at a sharp turn of the carriage-road, the vehicle containing the two men came side to side with a light phaeton, whose diminutive pony was ably guided by an extremely stylish young lady, and there, sitting by her side in evident favor, was the man for whom Sir Frederic was searching and for whose apprehension all London was desirous.
CHAPTER XV. DEATH.
Death overtakes us, one and all—
Oft times when life is at its best:
Before its fatal blade we fall
To deep and never ending, rest.
The two men recognized each other instantly, for Maurice, in his fancied security, had neglected the habitual disguise.