"I was silent. I'm not very quick, and was trying, in a dazed way, to turn it off.
"'Three!' she cried. 'Three! I knew it. Oh, tell me all about it. Oh, do tell me! Oh, do--please tell me all. Oh, do, ple-e-e-ease tell me.'
"And then she began, and she teased and she coaxed, and coaxed and teased, until at last--"
Jack hesitated.
"Well," said I.
"Well," said he.
"You didn't really tell her," said I.
"Yes, but I did," said he.
"You didn't--you couldn't."
"I'll be hanged if I didn't!"
"Not about Number Three?"
"Yes, Number Three," said Jack, looking at me with a fixed and slightly stony stare.
Words were useless, and I sought expression for my feelings in the more emphatic whistle, which now was largely protracted.
"And how did she take it?" I asked, at length, as soon as I found voice to speak.
"As usual. Teased me, no end. Alluded to my recent proposal. Asked me if I had intended her to be Number Four, and declared her belief that I had thirty rather than three. Finally, the aunt waked up, and wanted to know what we were laughing at. Whereupon Louie said that she was laughing at a ridiculous story of mine, about an Indian juggler who could jeep three oranges in the air at the same time.
"'Captain Randolph,' said she 'you know all about Frederick the Great, of course?'
"'Of course," I said, 'and Alexander the Great also, and Julius Caesar, and Nebuchadnezzar, as the poet says.'
'"Perhaps you remember,' said Louie, in a grave tone, for her aunt was wide awake now, 'that the peculiar excellence of the genius of that great monarch consisted in his successful efforts to encounter the coalition raised against him. Though subject to the attacks of the three united powers of France, Austria, and Russia, he was still able to repel them, and finally rescued himself from destruction. Three assailants could not overpower him, and surely others may take courage from his example.'
"And after that little speech I came away, and here I am."
For some time we sat in silence. Jack did not seem to expect any remarks from me, but appeared to be rapt in his own thoughts. For my part, I had nothing whatever to say, and soon became equally rapt in my meditations.
And what were they about?
What? Why, the usual subject which had filled my mind for the past few days--my adventure on the river, and my mysterious companion.
Mysterious though she was, she was evidently a lady, and, though I could not be sure about her face, I yet could feel sure that she was beautiful. So very romantic an adventure had an unusual charm, and this charm was heightened to a wonderful degree by the mystery of her sudden and utter disappearance.
And now, since Jack had been so very confidential with me, I determined to return that confidence, and impart my secret to him. Perhaps he could help me. At any rate, he was the only person to whom I could think of telling it. So you see--
CHAPTER XII.
MY ADVENTURES REHEARSED TO JACK RANDOLPH.--"MY DEAR FELLOW, YOU DON'T SAY SO!"--"'PON MY LIFE, YES."--"BY JOVE! OLD CHAP, HOW CLOSE YOU'VE BEEN! YOU JUST HAVE NO END OF SECRETS. AND WHAT'S BECOME OF THE LADY?
WHO IS SHE?"
Who is she? Ay. Who, indeed? Hadn't I been torturing my brain for seventy-nine hours, sleeping as well as waking, with that one unanswered and apparently unanswerable question?
"Who is she?" repeated Jack.
"Well," said I, "that's the very thing that I wish to find out, and I want you to help me in it. I told you that she didn't leave any message--"
"But, didn't you find out her name?"
"No."
"By Jove! You're a queer lot. Why, I'd have found out her name the first thing."
"But I didn't--and now I want your help to find out not only her name, but herself."
At this Jack rose, loaded his pipe solemnly, and, with the air of one who is making preparations for a work of no common kind, lighted it, flung himself back in the easy-chair, and sent forth vast volumes of smoke, which might have been considered as admirably symbolical of the state of our minds.
"Well, Macrorie," said he, at last, "I'll tell you what I'd do. I'd go round to all the hotels, and examine the lists."
"Pooh!"
"Well, then, take the directory and hunt up all the names."
"Nonsense!"
"Why 'nonsense?'"
"Because I don't know her name. Didn't I impress that upon your mind?"
"By Jove!" cried Jack Randolph, after which he again relapsed into silence.
"See here, Macrorie," said he, at length.
"I have it."
"What?"
"Go round next Sunday to all the churches."
"What's the use of that?"
"Go round to the churches," repeated Jack, "scan every bonnet--and then, if you don't see her, why then, why--go to the photographic saloons. You'll be sure to find her picture there. By Jove! Why, Macrorie, the game's all in your own hands. These photographic saloons are better than a whole force of detective police. There's your chance, old man. You'll find her. Do that, and you're all right. Oh, yes--you'll find her, as sure as my name's Jack Randolph."
"No go, Jack," said I. "You see I couldn't recognize her even if I were to see her."