"Did she discover that—that person?" exclaimed the young man, startled.
"She thinks she has. I am not sure she is correct; but I am absolutely certain that Miss Southerland could eventually discover the person you were in search of. It seems a little hard on her—just on the eve of success—to lose. But that can't be helped now."
Gatewood, more excited and uncomfortable than he had ever been in all his life, watched Keen intently.
"Too bad, too bad," muttered the Tracer to himself. "The child needs the encouragement. It meant a thousand dollars to her—" He shrugged his shoulders, looked up, and, as though rather surprised to see Gatewood still there, smiled an impersonal smile and offered his hand in adieu. Gatewood winced.
"Could I—I see Miss Southerland?" he asked.
"I am afraid not. She is at this moment following my instructions to—but that cannot interest you now—"
"Yes, it does!—if you don't mind. Where is she? I—I'll take a look at the person she discovered; I will, really."
"Why, it's only this: I suspected that you might identify a person whom I had reason to believe was to be found every morning riding in the Park. So Miss Southerland has been riding there every day. Yesterday she came here, greatly excited—"
"Yes—yes—go on!"
Keen gazed dreamily at the sunny window. "She thought she had found your—er—the person. So I said you would meet her on the bridle path, near—but that's of no interest now—"