ynolds acknowledged. "Was he killed?"

"Oh, no. He merely disappeared, and left no trace at all. That was,
as I have just said, over fifteen years ago, and no word has been
received from him since."

"What was the trouble? Financial difficulties?"

"Not at all. He simply disappeared. It was due to his wife's death,
so I believe. They were greatly attached to each other, and when she
suddenly died Redmond was a broken-hearted man. I knew him well and it
was pathetic to watch him. He took no interest in his business, and
sold out as soon as possible. Then he vanished, and that was the last
we heard of him. He was an odd man in many ways, and although one of
the shrewdest men in business I ever knew, he was fond of the simple
life. He was a great reader, and at one time possessed a very fine
library. This article which I wish you to read tells the story of his
life, how he built up his business, and of his sudden disappearance."

"How do you know he wasn't killed?" Reynolds asked.

"Because of this," and the editor laid his forefinger upon a small
separate clipping at the bottom of the larger one. A short time after
Redmond disappeared, and when the excitement of all was intense, this
was received and published. Although it bore no name, yet we well know
that it was from Redmond, for it was just like something he would do.
This is what he wrote:

"'I go from the busy haunts of men, far from the bustle and worry of
business life. I may be found, but only he who is worthy will find me,
and whoever finds me, will, I trust, not lose his reward. From the
loopholes of retreat I shall watch the stress and fever of life, but
shall not mingle in the fray.'"

"Queer words, those," Reynolds remarked, when the editor had finished
reading. "What do you make of them?"

"I hardly know, although I have considered them very carefully. I
believe they contain a hidden meaning, and that the finding will
consist of more than the mere discovery of his person. It must refer
to something else, some quality of heart or mind, that is, the real
personality behind the mere outward form."

"A double quest, eh, for anyone who undertakes the venture?"

"It seems so, Tom, and that makes it all the more difficult. But what
an undertaking! How I wish I were young again, and I should be off
to-morrow. I was a fool not to make the try fifteen years ago. I
would not now be chained to this desk, I feel certain of that."