CHAPTER V
Gatewood, burdened with restlessness and gnawed by curiosity, consumed aweek in prowling about the edifice where Keen & Co. carried on aninteresting profession.
His first visit resulted merely in a brief interview with Mr. Keen, whosmilingly reported progress and suavely bowed him out. He looked aboutfor Miss Southerland as he was leaving, but did not see her.
On his second visit he mustered the adequate courage to ask for her, andexperienced a curiously sickly sensation when informed that MissSoutherland was no longer employed in the bureau of statistics, havingbeen promoted to an outside position of great responsibility. His thirdvisit proved anything but satisfactory. He sidled and side-stepped forten minutes before he dared ask Mr. Keen _where_ Miss Southerland hadgone. And when the Tracer replied that, considering the business he hadundertaken for Mr. Gatewood, he really could not see why Mr. Gatewoodshould interest himself concerning the whereabouts of Miss Southerland,the young man had nothing to say, and escaped as soon as possible,enraged at himself, at Mr. Keen, and vaguely holding the entire worldguilty of conspiracy.
He had no definite idea of what he wanted, except that his desire to seeMiss Southerland again seemed out of all proportion to any reasonablemotive for seeing her. Occasional fits of disgust with himself for whathe had done were varied with moody hours of speculation. Suppose Mr.Keen did find his ideal? What of it? He no longer wanted to see her. Hehad no use for her. The savor of the enterprise had gone stale in hismouth; he was by turns worried, restless, melancholy, sulky, uneasy. Avast emptiness pervaded his life. He smoked more and more and ate lessand less. He even disliked to see others eat, particularly Kerns.
And one exquisite May morning he came down to breakfast and found theunspeakable Kerns immersed in grapefruit, calm, well balanced, andbland.
"How-de-dee, dear friend?" said that gentleman affably. "Any news fromCupid this beautiful May morning?"
"No; and I don't want any," returned Gatewood, sorting his mail with ascowl and waving away his fruit.
"Tut, tut! Lovers must be patient. Dearie will be found some day--"
"Some day," snarled Gatewood, "I shall destroy you, Tommy."
"Naughty! Naughty!" reflected Kerns, pensively assaulting the breakfastfood. "Lovey must _not_ worry; Dovey shall be found, and all will be joyand gingerbread. . . . If you throw that orange I'll run screaming tothe governors. Aren't you ashamed--just because you're in a lovetantrum!"
"One more word and you get it!"
"May I sing as I trifle with this frugal fare, dear friend? My heart is_so_ happy that I should love to warble a few wild notes--"
He paused to watch his badgered victim dispose of a Martini.
"I wonder," he mused, "if you'd like me to tell you what a cocktailbefore breakfast does to the lining of your stomach? Would you?"
"No. I suppose it's what the laundress does to my linen. What do Icare?"
"_Don't_ be a short sport, Jack."
"Well, I don't care for the game you put me up against. Do you know whathas happened?"
"I really don't, dear friend. The Tracer of Lost Persons has not foundher--_has_ he?"
"He says he has," retorted Gatewood sullenly, pulling a crumpledtelegram from his pocket and casting it upon the table. "I don't want tosee her; I'm not interested. I never saw but one girl in my life whointerested me in the slightest; and she's employed to help in thisridiculous search."
Kerns, meanwhile, had smoothed out the telegram and was intentlyperusing it:
"_John Gatewood, Lenox Club, Fifth Avenue:_
"Person probably discovered. Call here as soon as possible.
W. KEEN."
"_What_ do you make of that?" demanded Gatewood hoarsely.
"Make of it? Why, it's true enough, I fancy. Go and see, and if it'sshe, be hers!"
"I won't! I don't want to see any ideal! I don't want to marry. Why doyou try to make me marry somebody?"
"Because it's good for you, dear friend. Otherwise you'll go to thedoggy-dogs. You don't realize how much worry you are to me."
"Confound it! Why don't _you_ marry? Why didn't I ask you that when youput me up to all this foolishness? What right have you to--"
"Tut, friend! _I_ know there's no woman alive fit to wed me and spendher life in stealing kisses from me. _I_ have no ideal. _You_ have anideal."
"I haven't!"
"Oh, yes, dear friend, there's a stub in your check book to prove it.You simply bet $5,000 that your ideal existed. You've won. Go and be herjoy and sunshine."
"I'll put an end to this whole business," said Gatewood wrathfully, "andI'll do it now!"
"Bet you that you're engaged within the week!" said Kerns with a placidsmile.
The other swung around savagely: "What will you bet, Tommy? You may havewhat odds you please. I'll make you sit up for this."
"I'll bet you," answered Kerns, deliberately, "an entire silver dinnerservice against a saddle horse for the bride."
"That's a fool bet!" snapped Gatewood. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, if you don't care to--"
"What do I want of a silver service? But, all right; I'll bet youanything."
"_She'll_ want it," replied Kerns significantly, booking the bet. "I mayas well canter out to Tiffany's this morning, I fancy. . . . Where areyou going, Jack?"
"To see Keen and confess what an ass I've been!" returned Gatewoodsullenly, striding across the breakfast room to take his hat and glovesfrom the rack. And out he went, mad all over.
On his way up the avenue he attempted to formulate the humiliatingconfession which already he shrank from. But it had to be done. Hesimply could not stand the prospect of being notified month after monththat a lady would be on view somewhere. It was like going for a fitting;it was horrible. Besides, what use was it? Within a week or two anenormous and utterly inexplicable emptiness had yawned before him,revealing life as a hollow delusion. He no longer cared.
Immersed in bitter reflection, he climbed the familiar stairway and senthis card to Mr. Keen, and in due time he was ushered into the presenceof the Tracer of Lost Persons.
"Mr. Keen," he began, with a headlong desire to get it over and be donewith it, "I may as well tell you how impossible it is for you, oranybody, to find that person I described--"
Mr. Keen raised an expostulatory hand, smiling indulgence.
"It is more than possible, Mr. Gatewood, more than probable; it isalmost an accomplished fact. In other words, I think I may venture tocongratulate you and say that she _is_ found."
"Now, _how_ can she be found, when there isn't--"
"Mr. Gatewood, the magician will always wave his magic wand for you andshow you his miracles for the price of admission. But for that price hedoes not show you how he works his miracles," said Keen, laughing.
"But I ought to tell you," persisted Gatewood, "that it is utterlyimpossible you should find the person I wished to discover, becauseshe--"
"I can only prove that you are wrong," smiled Keen, rising from his easychair.
"Mr. Keen," said the young man earnestly, "I have been more or less of achump at times. One of those times was when I came here on this errand.All I desire, now, is to let the matter rest as it is. I am satisfied,and you have lost nothing. Nor have you found anything or anybody. Youthink you have, but you haven't. I do not wish you to continue thesearch, or to send me any further reports. I want to forget the wholemiserable matter--to be free--to feel myself freed from any obligationsto that irritating person I asked you to find."
The Tracer regarded him very gravely.
"Is that your wish, Mr. Gatewood? I can scarcely credit it."
"It is. I've been a fool; I simply want to stop being one if anybodywill permit it."
"And you decline to attempt to identify the very beautiful person wehave discovered to be the individual for whom you asked us to search?"
"I do. She may be beautiful; but I know well enough she can't comparewith--some one."
"I am sorry,
" said Keen thoughtfully. "We take so much pride in thesematters. When one of my agents discovered where this person was, I wasrather--happy; for I have taken a peculiar personal interest in yourcase. However--"
"Mr. Keen," said Gatewood, "if you could understand how ashamed andmortified I am at my own conduct--"
Keen gazed pensively out of the window. "I also am sorry; MissSoutherland was to have received a handsome bonus for her discovery--"
"Miss S-S-S-S-outherland!"
"_Ex_actly; without quite so many _S's_," said Keen, smiling.
"Did _she_ discover that--that person?" exclaimed the young man,startled.
"She thinks she has. I am not sure she is correct; but I am absolutelycertain that Miss Southerland could eventually discover the person youwere in search of. It seems a little hard on her--just on the eve ofsuccess--to lose. But that can't be helped now."
Gatewood, more excited and uncomfortable than he had ever been in allhis life, watched Keen intently.
"Too bad, too bad," muttered the Tracer to himself. "The child needs theencouragement. It meant a thousand dollars to her--" He shrugged hisshoulders, looked up, and, as though rather surprised to see Gatewoodstill there, smiled an impersonal smile and offered his hand in adieu.Gatewood winced.
"Could I--I see Miss Southerland?" he asked.
"I am afraid not. She is at this moment following my instructionsto--but that cannot interest you now--"
"Yes, it does!--if you don't mind. Where is she? I--I'll take a look atthe person she discovered; I will, really."
"Why, it's only this: I suspected that you might identify a person whomI had reason to believe was to be found every morning riding in thePark. So Miss Southerland has been riding there every day. Yesterday shecame here, greatly excited--"
"Yes--yes--go on!"
Keen gazed dreamily at the sunny window. "She thought she had foundyour--er--the person. So I said you would meet her on the bridle path,near--but that's of no interest now--"
"Near where?" demanded Gatewood, suppressing inexplicable excitement.And as Keen said nothing: "I'll go; I want to go, I really do!Can't--can't a fellow change his mind? Oh, I know you think I'm alunatic, and there's plenty of reason, too!"
Keen studied him calmly. "Yes, plenty of reason, plenty of reason, Mr.Gatewood. But do you suppose you are the only one? I know another whowas perfectly sane two weeks ago."
The young man waited impatiently; the Tracer paced the room, gray headbent, delicate, wrinkled hands clasped loosely behind his bent back.
"You have horses at the Whip and Spur Club," he said abruptly. "Supposeyou ride out and see how close Miss Southerland has come to solving ourproblem."
Gatewood seized the offered hand and wrung it with a fervor out of allreason; and it is curious that the Tracer of Lost Persons did not appearto be astonished.
"You're rather impetuous--like your father," he said slowly. "I knewhim; so I've ventured to trust his son--even when I heard how aimlesslyhe was living his life. Mr. Gatewood! May I ask you something--as an oldfriend of your father?"
The young man nodded, subdued, perplexed, scarcely understanding.
"It's only this: If you _do_ find the woman you could love--in thePark--to-day--come back to me some day and let me tell you all thosefoolish, trite, tiresome things that I should have told a son of mine. Iam so old that you will not take offense--you will not mind listening tome, or forgetting the dull, prosy things I say about the curse ofidleness, and the habits of cynical thinking, and the perils ofvacant-minded indulgence. You will forgive me--and you will forget me.That will be as it should be. Good-by."
Gatewood, sobered, surprised, descended the stairs and hailed a hansom.
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