Exactly how I reached that corner, I cannot now remember. I did not walk and yet I cannot for the life of me recall what manner of conveyance I used. So much happened in my mind during that transit that external matters left absolutely no impression upon it. The first impression I do recall is the shock of blank chagrin that struck me like a shot in the vitals when I saw Randolph standing jauntily alone at the corner, staring at the passing crowd. Alicia was not with him. Yet how important the young rascal suddenly seemed in my eyes. He alone in all the world had present knowledge of her. I could have fallen upon him and hugged him then and there—and shamed him to death. "Where—where is she?" I blurted out. "I thought you—tell me, in heaven’s name!" and I seized hold of him fiercely, as though he were a pickpocket caught in the act. He glanced at me with humorous cockiness and laughed. Then suddenly conscious that people were staring at us, and that a policeman was speculatively watching our encounter, he hastily put his arm through mine and drew me away. "Come on, Uncle Ranny, I’ll lead you to where she is." "You amazing boy!" I muttered. "But are you really sure?" "Sure I’m sure!" he crowed. "I think it’s nothing to be a detective. I believe I’d make a good one," he bragged. "Brag, you young devil," I thought indulgently, but I made no audible reply and merely made him walk faster. He was leading me into Twenty-ninth Street beyond Brentano’s and to my amazement I found myself at the well-remembered door of Andrews’ bookshop. "Here!" I cried in stupefaction. He nodded, grinning as though he expected an oration of praise for his acumen then and there. He did not get it. I rushed in wildly, like a mad man, into those silent precincts where so often I had passed blissfully silent hours. Who would desire a garish light in this pleasant temple? For a moment I seemed to be in utter darkness. "Kind of dark," murmured Randolph, "but I spotted her." On a sudden my dilated eyes encountered two human beings simultaneously in their line of vision. Andrews was standing in dignity in the middle of his shop like a monarch about to receive royalty, and behind him, at a desk in the rear, a girl was bending over some writing, an electric light illumining her fair head. The girl—yes!—It was Alicia! I felt the effect of a sharp blow over the heart and, brushing the astonished Andrews aside, I made a crazy leap toward her. "Why, Mr. Randolph Byrd!" began Andrews. "Haven’t seen you—" "Alicia!" I cried out in what sounded even in my own ears like a sob. "Oh, Uncle Ranny!" She jumped from her chair with a little scream, and, before I knew it, I was pressing her to my heart with a quivering convulsive joy that choked all utterance. She gasped in pain, the poor child. But when my arms relaxed, she lay sobbing happily against my heart.