my friend to counteract and
smother the inevitable gossip. This he promised to do; and I knew
Billy. As for finding Harry, it was too late to do anything that
night, and I went home and to bed.

The next morning I began by calling at her hotel. But though the
manager of the theater had gotten no information from them, he had
pumped them dry. They knew nothing.

I dared not go to the police, and probably they would have been unable
to give me any assistance if I had sought it. The only other possible
source of information I disliked to use; but after racking my brain for
the better part of the day I decided that there was nothing else for
it, and started on a round of the ticket offices of the railroads and
steamship companies.

I had immediate success. My first call was at the office where Harry
and I were accustomed to arrange our transportation. As I entered the
head clerk--or whatever they call him--advanced to greet me with a
smile.

"Yes," said he in response to my question; "Mr. Lamar got his tickets
from me. Let's see--Thursday, wasn't it? No, Friday. That's
right--Friday."

"Tickets!" I muttered to myself. And in my preoccupation I really
neglected to listen to him. Then aloud: "Where were the--tickets for?"

"Denver."

"For Friday's train?"

"Yes. The Western Express."

That was all I wanted to know. I hurried home, procured a couple of
hastily packed bags, and took the afternoon train for the West.

Chapter III.

A MODERN MARANA.

My journey westward was an eventful one; but this is not a "History of
Tom Jones," and I shall refrain from detail. Denver I reached at last,
after a week's stop-over in Kansas City. It was a delightful
adventure--but it had nothing to do with the story.

I left the train at the Rocky Mountain city about the middle of the
afternoon. And now, what to do? I think I am not a fool, but I
certainly lack the training of a detective, and I felt perfectly
rudderless and helpless as I ordered the taxi-driver to take me to the
Alcazar Hotel.

I was by no means sure that Harry had come to Denver. He was traveling
with a bundle of animated caprice, a creature who would have hauled him
off the train at Rahway, New Jersey, if she had happened to take a
fancy to the place. At the moment, I reflected, they might be driving
along Michigan Boulevard, or attending a matinee at the Willis Wood, or
sipping mint juleps at the Planters'.

Even if they were in