“‘Forever!’ she says. ‘Will you give a message to Mr. Morrow for me, please? Tell him I’m sorry I was mistaken. I’m sorry to have found him out!’
“She burst out cryin’ again an’ ran back as her father called her from the porch. He was bringin’ out a pile of suit-cases and roll-ups, and pretty soon a taxicab drove up with a man inside. I couldn’t see his face––only his coat-sleeve. They got in an’ went off kitin’ an’ that’s every last thing I know. What d’you s’pose she meant about findin’ you out, Mr. Morrow?”
He turned away without reply, and went to his room, where he sat for long sunk in a stupor of misery. She had found out the truth, before he could tell her. She knew him for what he was, knew his despicable errand in ingratiating himself into her friendship and that of her father. She believed that the real love he had professed for her had been all a mere part of the game he was playing, and now she had gone away forever! He would never see her again!
“By God, no!” he cried aloud to himself, in the bitterness of his sorrow. “I will find her again, if I search the ends of the earth. She shall know the truth!”
CHAPTER XIV
IN THE OPEN
Guy Morrow’s resolve to find Emily Brunell at all costs, stirred him from the apathy of despair into which he had fallen, and roused him to instant action. Leaving the house, he went to the nearest telephone pay station, where he could converse in comparative privacy, and called up Henry Blaine’s office, only to discover that the master detective had departed upon some mission of his own, was not expected to return until the following morning, and had left no instructions for him.
This unanticipated set-back left Morrow without definite resource. As a forlorn hope he telephoned to the Anita Lawton Club, only to learn that Miss Brunell had sent in her resignation as secretary early that morning, but told nothing of her future plans, except that she was leaving town for an indefinite period.