“How did you comfort her in the end? It would interest me very much to hear, if the details are of the sort that will bear repeating without giving Miss Blow away. Did you hold a pocket-handkerchief to her eyes?” “No, nothing of that kind. I----” Mr. Goddard hesitated. “Go on,” said Lord Manton. “I’ll treat whatever you say as strictly confidential.” “Well, I promised to do what she asked.” “Do you mean to say that you’ve pledged yourself to go searching the country for Dr. O’Grady’s body?” “I couldn’t help it. What on earth else could I do?” “And when do you start?” “I don’t mean to start at all.” Lord Manton pretended not to hear this remark. “Do the thing in style if you do it at all,” he said. “Get bloodhounds. I’ll give you the address of a man in England who breeds them. Fish out an old sock of the doctor’s; let the bloodhound get the scent, and then we’ll be off across country.” “I don’t mean to do any such fool thing.” “We’ll have glorious paragraphs in all the papers,” said Lord Manton. “MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF A DOCTOR. VIGOROUS ACTION OF THE ROYAL IRISH CONSTABULARY. DISTRICT INSPECTOR GODDARD THINKS HE HAS A CLUE. BLOODHOUNDS USED. FIANCEE IN TEARS. Your portrait will appear along with Miss Blow’s.” “It’s all very fine to laugh,” said Mr. Goddard; “but of course I’m not going----” “You’ll have to. You’ve promised. You can’t go back on a promise made to a lady. Her portrait will be published in the papers and everybody will see how charming she is. You’ll be an object of universal hatred and contempt if you go back on your word.” “If ever it gets into the papers at all, you’ll look quite as great a fool as I shall. Your note will be published. And, after all, you know, the girl has something to say for herself. The doctor’s gone. Now, why the devil did he go, and where has he gone to?” “Can’t you give a guess at his motives?” “No, I can’t. It wasn’t debt. Miss Blow told me herself that she was ready to pay every penny that he owed.” “No; it’s not debt. I thought it was at first, but it appears I was wrong.” “He didn’t drink,” said Mr. Goddard, “that ever I heard of. Besides, even if he did, that would be no reason for bolting. Whisky’s as plenty here as anywhere in the world.” “No; it’s not drink. Try the other thing. There’s only one more. ‘Love, or debt, or whisky’--you know the old saying. If it isn’t either of the last two, it must be the first.” “Love!” said Mr. Goddard. “Precisely.” “But, hang it all! Miss Blow’s quite ready to marry him.” “Too ready,” said Lord Manton; “that’s my point.” Mr. Goddard thought hard for a couple of minutes. “Do you mean to suggest,” he said at last, “that he’s run away from her?” “In the absence of any other conceivable reason for his bolting,” said Lord Manton, “I am unwillingly driven to the conclusion that he wants to escape from Miss Blow.” “But, hang it all! why should he? The girl’s uncommonly good-looking.”