em?" he asked.

"Mr. Davis and his aunt and his friend, the old man, and the young
girl--all of them."

"But the servants----"

"Ain't but one--old man Sullivan," she answered with some scorn.

"And they went where?"

"Lord, now how d' ye suppose I know that?"

For a second Wilson looked so disconsolate that she offered her last
bit of information.

"They took their trunks with 'em."

"Thanks," he replied as he turned on his heels and ran for the
approaching car.

He made it. During the ride in town his mind was busy with a dozen
different conjectures, each wilder than the preceding one. He was
hoping against hope that she had written him and that her letter now
awaited him in the post-office.

Reaching the Federal Building, he waited breathlessly at the tiny
window while the indifferent clerk ran over the general mail. With a
large bundle of letters in his hand he skimmed them over and finally
paused, started on, returned, and tossed out a letter. Wilson tore it
open. It was from Jo. It read:

"DEAR COMRADE:

I have made my decision--I am going with Dr. Sorez to Bogova,
South America. I have just written them at home and now I am
writing you as I promised. I'm afraid you will think, like the
others, that I am off on a senseless quest; but perhaps you
won't. If only you knew how much my father is to me! Dr. Sorez
is sure he is still living. I know he used to go to Carlina,
of which Bogova is the capitol. Why he should let us believe
him dead is, of course, something for me to learn. At any
rate, I am off, and off--to-day. The priest makes it unsafe
for Dr. Sorez to remain here any longer. You see, I have a
long journey before me. But I love it. I'm half a sailor, you
know.

I am writing this in the hope that you will receive it in time
to meet me at the steamer--the Columba, a merchantman. It
sails at four from Pier 7, East Boston. If not, let me tell
you again how much I thank you for what you have done--and
would do. From time to time I shall write to you, if you wish,
and you can write to me in care of Dr. Carl Sorez, the
Metropole, Bogova, Carlina. When I come back we must meet
again. Good luck to you, comrade.

Sincerely yours,
JO MANNING."

Meet her at the steamer! The boat sailed at four. It was now quarter
of. He