"You have not heard from him?" he exclaimed, in surprise.
"Not a word," she sighed, then added, quickly: "But I don't think he meant to break his engagement. Perhaps there was a fire, and he had to go."
"Very likely—but, then, he should have sent you an apology early this morning."
"Do you think so? Oh, I suppose he will come and explain in person," said Geraldine, with assumed indifference.
Another customer bustled up to claim her attention, and he bowed himself away, secretly exultant over the fact that she was utterly ignorant of Harry Hawthorne's fate.
"There is no one to come and tell her, and even if it gets into the papers, she is not likely to read it. A poor working-girl has little time for reading," he reflected.
Again his evil genius favored him.
When he went for his call on Geraldine that evening, he found a messenger-boy in the street with a letter for her from the Bellevue Hospital.
He took the letter from the boy, and gave him a quarter.
"I am going in to see Miss Harding now. I will deliver the letter," he said, affably, and the boy, who was in a hurry to get home to his supper, thanked him for the service, and turned away, rejoicingly.