e was interested. "What has become of
him?"

"We haven't an idea. He's been spirited off--vanished from the earth and
left no trace. Really, we're beginning to be afraid he's been captured by
brigands. That head waiter, that Gustavo, knows where he is, but we can't
get a word out of him. He tells a different story every ten minutes. I
looked in the register to see if by chance he'd left an address there,
and what do you think I found?"

"Oh!" said Constance; there was a world of illumination in her tone.
"What did you find?" she asked, hastily suppressing every emotion but
polite curiosity.

"'Abraham Lincoln' in Jerry's hand-writing!"

"Really!" Constance dimpled irrepressibly. "You are sure Jerry wrote
it?"

"It was his writing; and I showed it to Gustavo, and what do you think he
said?"

Constance shook her head.

"He said that Jerry had forgotten to register, that that was written by a
Hungarian nobleman who was here last week--imagine a Hungarian nobleman
named Abraham Lincoln!"

Constance dropped into one of the little iron chairs and bowed her head
on the back and laughed.

"Perhaps you can explain?" There was a touch of sharpness in Nannie's
tone.

"Don't ever ask me to explain anything Gustavo says; the man is not to be
believed under oath."

"But what's become of Jerry?"

"Oh, he'll turn up." Constance's tone was comforting. "Aunt Hazel," she
called. Miss Hazel and Mrs. Eustace, their heads together over the tea
table, were busily making up three months' dropped news. "Do you remember
the young man I told you about who popped into our garden last week?
That was Jerry Junior!"

"Then you've seen him?" said Nannie.

Constance related the episode of the broken wall--the sequel she omitted.
"I hadn't seen him for six years," she added apologetically, "and I
didn't recognize him. Of course if I'd dreamed--"

Nannie groaned.

"And I thought I'd planned it so beautifully!"

"Planned what?"

"I suppose I might as well tell you since it's come to nothing. We
hoped--that is, you see--I've been so worried for fear Jerry--" She took
a breath and began again. "You know, Constance, when it comes to getting
married, a man has no more sense than a two-year child. So I determined
to pick out a wife for Jerry, myself, one I would like to have for a
sister. I've done it three times and he simply wouldn't look at them; you
can't imagine how stubborn he is. But when I found we were coming to
Valedolmo, I