It was then that a remark fell from the maid’s lips that caused both of them to start violently, and to exchange covert glances of dismay with each other, taking great care that the maid should not notice this secret telegraphing between them. When there was absolutely nothing more to learn, they took their leave, promising to call again soon; but the next time it should not be upon business, but upon her fair self. When the two friends got around the first corner they stopped short--gazing long and fixedly into each other’s eyes. “It will never do to disclose what we have learned to John Dinsmore to-night,” said Jerry Gaines, huskily, and in this opinion Ballou heartily concurred. “No, it will be best to await developments on the morrow,” he declared. CHAPTER XLVII. A MOMENT OF TERROR. The first question that John Dinsmore asked of them, when they met at the restaurant an hour later, was what success they had met with, adding that he could hardly contain himself and control his nerves, his anxiety was so intense. “Rome was not built in a day, my dear fellow,” responded Ballou, adding: “By this time to-morrow we hope to answer you more satisfactorily.” “You mean to say that you have found trace of her?” cried John Dinsmore. “Do not keep me in suspense, tell me at once.” “On or before this time to-morrow, we hope to bring you face to face with your little Jess--mind, I use the word ‘hope.’ That must suffice for the present, my boy,” repeated Ballou. Just as Dinsmore was about to make a response, his attention was attracted by a young man who had just entered, and who had deposited himself in a seat at an opposite table. One glance at his face, and John Dinsmore recognized him instantly as Raymond Challoner, his foe of those other days, when they had fought that duel for the favor of fair, false, fickle Queenie Trevalyn. As Challoner’s eyes met his own, John Dinsmore saw there was no gleam of recognition in them. Raymond Challoner did not know him, and he was quite as well satisfied with this turn of affairs. Following the direction of their friend’s earnest gaze, both the artist and the reporter beheld Raymond Challoner at the selfsame moment. “It must be that fate is playing directly into our hands!” whispered Jerry Gaines to Ballou, when John Dinsmore’s attention was directed in another direction. John had noticed that his two friends recognized Challoner; but, save a meaning half smile, he took no other notice of the other’s near presence, and was glad that they seemed to ignore him. Underneath their nonchalant manner, both Jerry Gaines and Ballou were intensely excited; and when Raymond Challoner arose to quit the place, some half an hour or so later, Gaines made a hurried excuse to leave his two friends, and passed out hurriedly in Challoner’s wake; and Ballou was thankful that John Dinsmore had not the slightest suspicion that there was anything on foot in that direction.