ag of clubs and walked through the lane toward the first tee. I never
felt less like playing or more inclined to feign illness and remain at
home. But I had promised Lady Carey and the promise must be kept.

There was a group of people, players and guests, awaiting me at the tee.
Her ladyship was there, of course; so also was her nephew, Mr. Carleton
Heathcroft, whom I had not seen for some time. Heathcroft was in
conversation with a young fellow who, when he turned in my direction,
I recognized as Herbert Bayliss. I was surprised to see him; I had not
heard of his return from the Black Forest trip.

Lady Carey was affable and gracious, also very important and busy. She
welcomed me absent-mindedly, introduced me to several of her guests,
ladies and gentlemen from London down for the week-end, and then bustled
away to confer with Mr. Handliss, steward of the estate, concerning the
arrangements for the tournament. I felt a touch on my arm and, turning,
found Doctor Bayliss standing beside me. He was smiling and in apparent
good humor.

"The boy is back, Knowles," he said. "Have you seen him?"

"Yes," said I, "I have seen him, although we haven't met yet. I was
surprised to find him here. When did he return?"

"Only yesterday. His mother and I were surprised also. We hadn't
expected him so soon. He's looking very fit, don't you think?"

"Very." I had not noticed that young Bayliss was looking either more or
less fit than usual, but I answered as I did because the old gentleman
seemed so very anxious that I should. He was evidently gratified. "Yes,"
he said, "he's looking very fit indeed. I think his trip has benefited
him hugely. And I think--Yes, I think he is beginning to forget
his--that is to say, I believe he does not dwell upon the--the recent
happenings as he did. I think he is forgetting; I really think he is."

"Indeed," said I. It struck me that, if Herbert Bayliss was forgetting,
his memory must be remarkably short. I imagined that his father's wish
was parent to the thought.

"He has--ah--scarcely mentioned our--our young friend's name since his
return," went on the doctor. "He did ask if you had heard--ah--by the
way, Knowles, you haven't heard, have you?"

"No."

"Dear me! dear me! That's very odd, now isn't it."

He did not say he was sorry. If he had said it I should not have
believed him. If ever anything was plain it was that the longer we
remained without news of Frances Morley the better ple