"He hasn't a cent," said Gawthrop contemptuously.
"It don't follow," said Shadwell stubbornly, "that because woman is wicked by nature they ain't silly by choice. I tell you Gardiner 'as gone to wind'ard of you! He's laughin' this very minute!"
And so he was. But Edith Atherton was by no means amused at the sudden disappearance of the two men who were supposed to stand highest in her favour. Whether she cared much or little for either of them, or not, it was unpleasant to have them fail to keep their appointments, and to leave San Francisco without a word of explanation. Her first and very natural impulse was to let every one infer that she had rejected both of them. But when old Mr. Gawthrop called on her during the second day she had to own that she understood the mystery as little as the newspapers did. And all the papers were very keen on any scent.
"But, Mr. Gawthrop, they both said something that I could not understand. Mr. Hunt said that he was sure that your son would soon go to Europe, and not ten minutes after Sibley said the same of Mr. Hunt."
The explanation seemed easy to the old man. Both of them imagined that his rejected rival would travel. The rest must be a coincidence. He went away to the police, and the police invented many hypotheses. They were learned in the matter of disappearances in San Francisco. But none of the hypotheses seemed to fit. Both the young men were wealthy, and it seemed certain that one or the other of them was bound to succeed with the lady in question. Nevertheless, old Gawthrop learnt some things about his son which surprised him.
There was one newspaper which suggested that they might have been shanghaied. It was the Chronicle, on which Gardiner worked. For though he had made up his mind to do very little more work on any paper, he was loyal to his flag so long as he hoisted it, and meant that the Chronicle should be able to sail in at the last and say, "We told you so." And when every one else on the paper failed in getting an interview with Miss Atherton, he volunteered to try.
"You must understand, however," he said to his editor, "that even if I see her I don't promise to write anything about it. You see, I knew her a little when she was in New York two years ago, and though I'm not in the gilt-edged crowd she adorns here, I owe her something."
And Edith Atherton saw him, although she did consider a man on a newspaper little, if anything, higher than a deck-hand in a Bay ferry-boat. She had never understood what he was doing in California at all. He went to interview her, and she interviewed him.
"I'm here as a man from the Chronicle, Miss Atherton," said Gardiner. He spoke almost timidly. It was the first time he had ever been alone with her.
"You are not here as a man from the Chronicle" said Edith.