"I cannot tell you; it may turn out a mere chimera; say that I am going on a 'wild-goose chase,' and you will hit the truth."
"Of course you know there is not another train until to-morrow," he observes. "Vane will have had twenty-four hours the start of you."
"I know that. Still I must follow him," she says, persistently.
"Then I must tell you. I didn't mean you should know just yet; it is not likely you will find him in New York when you go. He's off for the other side of the 'herring-pond.'"
"Gone abroad!" She starts, and her tortured face whitens. Into her eyes comes a look of despair.
"You know he was booked for Europe—he and Maud were, I mean. Their passage was taken on the steamer which leaves New York to-morrow. Vane has obstinately chosen to go alone. Never mind, lovey. The young simpleton will be suing your pardon some day."
"Never mind me, uncle, I am not thinking of myself," she says, through white, quivering lips. "Oh, tell me what to do! I must see him for five minutes only—I must, I must, I must! if I have to follow him to Europe!"
"Is the case so desperate as that?" he asks; "I will help you, then. Shall I telegraph him to stay in New York until——"
"Not until I come," nervously. "That might make him very angry."
"Until I come, then. For I shall go with you, of course. What could you do all alone by yourself in big New York?"