Inside the ring was an inscription—“Del to Edith—Forever.”
Del to Edith? Where had he seen those names? With a sudden flash of illumination, he dropped the ring back into the bag, stuffed the bag in his pocket, and made his way to a newsboy at the corner.
There it was in startling headlines: Edith Towne Disappears. Delafield Simms’ Yacht Said to Have Been Sighted Near Norfolk!
So his passenger had been the much-talked-about Edith Towne—deserted at the moment of her marriage!
He thought of her eyes of burning blue,—the fairness of her skin and hair—the touch of haughtiness. Simms was a cur, of course! He should have knelt at her feet!
The thing to do was to get the bag back to her. He must advertise at once. On the wings of this decision, his car whirled down the Avenue. The lines which, after much deliberation, he pushed across the counter of the newspaper office, would be ambiguous to others, but clear to her. “Will passenger who left bag with valuable contents in Ford car call up Sherwood Park 49.”
CHAPTER III
JANE KNITS
“Is she really as beautiful as that?” Jane demanded.