here were tears in her eyes, "and
be careful of yourself, my dear boy, in this dismal expedition. Take
plenty of furs, and beware of the cannibals."

She won a smile from him as he bent over her sofa to kiss her good-by,
but she reserved further comments upon his errantry for Bob.

"Quixotic nonsense!" she declared. "Was there ever a man so wise that
a woman couldn't make a fool of him?"

CHAPTER IX.

Could there be a crueler irony of fate than to be absolutely convinced
of the widowhood of her you love and to be unable, practically, to
establish the fact?

Stephen French had expatriated himself, resigned the work he valued,
put the seas between himself and Deena, only to be baffled at every
turn. For two months he had used his utmost acumen in prosecuting the
search without even finding a clew, and when finally he made his great
discovery, it was by yielding to the impulse of the moment rather than
the suggestions of reason.

From March to May Mrs. Star's great ocean-going yacht had steamed
along the southeastern shores of Patagonia. Sometimes within the
confines of the Straits, sometimes rounding its headlands into the
Atlantic, and dropping anchor wherever the line of coast gave any
facility for landing an exploring party, until the hopelessness of the
quest was patent to everybody except Stephen.

On his way down he had stopped at Buenos Ayres, where he provided
himself with the charts and surveys made by the newly returned
expedition, and secured Simeon's personal effects left on the
_Tintoretto_, together with his diary, scientific memoranda and
specimens, which had been carefully preserved, and were of rare value,
from a botanist's point of view.

French was fortunate enough to induce both Lopez and the captain of
the _Tintoretto_ to accompany him as guests, and they proved
invaluable allies, especially the captain, whose topographical
knowledge and recent experience were always to be relied upon. From
him Stephen learned all the particulars of Simeon's disappearance,
though the last home letter dispatched by the poor fellow, on the eve
of the guanaco hunt, covered the first part of the story. It appeared
that Ponsonby had landed with a surveying party from the ship, one
morning in January, on the Patagonian side of the Straits, and set out
to botanize while his companions worked. He had climbed a steep bank,
in order to secure a particular shrub just in flower, when he saw on
the plain beyond a part