, in one of which I found the
name of Mrs. Lascelles in the register, while in every one I was
prepared to light upon Bob Evers in the flesh. But that encounter did
not occur.

In the early morning I was one of a shivering handful who awaited the
diligence for the Furka Pass; and an ominous drizzle made me thankful
that my telegram of the previous day had been too late to secure me an
outside seat. It was quite damp enough within. Nor did the day improve
as we drove, or the view attract me in the least. It was at its worst as
a sight, and I at mine as a sightseer. I have as little recollection of
my fellow-passengers; but I still see the page in the hotel register at
the Rhone Glacier, with the name I sought written boldly in its place,
just twenty-four hours earlier.

The Furka Pass has its European reputation; it would gain nothing from
my enthusiastic praises, had I any enthusiasm to draw upon, or the
descriptive powers to do it justice. But what I best remember is the
time it took us to climb those interminable zig-zags, and to shake off
the too tenacious sight of the hotel in the hollow where I had seen a
signature and eaten my lunch. Now I think of it, there were two couples
who had come so far with us, but at the Rhone Glacier they exchanged
their mutually demonstrative adieux, and I thought the couple who came
on would never have done waving to the couple who stayed behind. They
kept it up for at least an hour, and then broke out again at each of our
many last glimpses of the hotel, now hundreds of feet below. That was
the only diversion until these energetic people went to see the glacier
cave at the summit of the pass. I am glad to remember that I preferred
refreshment at the inn. After that, night fell upon a scene whose
desolation impressed me more than its grandeur, and so in the end we
rattled into Andermatt: here was a huge hotel all but empty, with a
perfect tome of a visitors' book, and in it sure enough the fine free
autograph which I was beginning to know so well.

"Yes, sare," said the concierge, "the season end suddenly mit the bad
vedder at the beginning of the veek. You know that lady? She has been
here last night; she go avay again to-day, on to Goeschenen and Zuerich.
Yes, sare, she shall be in Zuerich to-night."

I was in Zuerich myself the night after. I knew the hotel to go to, knew
it from Mrs. Lascelles herself, whose experience of continental hotels
was so pathetically extensive. This