in all this. I have said nothing to prejudice her--Miss Morley against
you. I never shall. You care for her, I know. If she cares for you that
is enough, so far as I am concerned. Her happiness is my sole wish. I
want you to consider me your friend--and hers."

Once more I extended my hand. For an instant I thought he was going to
take it, but he did not.

"No," he said, sullenly. "I won't shake hands with you. Why should I?
You don't mean what you say. At least I don't think you do. I--I--By
Jove! you can't!"

"But I do," I said, patiently.

"You can't! Look here! you say I care for her. God knows I do! But
you--suppose you knew where she was, what would you do? Would you go to
her?"

I had been considering this very thing, during my ride to the lodgings
and on the way to the hotel; and I had reached a conclusion.

"No," I answered, slowly. "I think I should not. I know she does not
wish me to follow her. I suppose she went away to avoid me. If I were
convinced that she was among friends, in a respectable place, and quite
safe, I should try to respect her wish. I think I should not follow her
there."

He stared at me, wide-eyed.

"You wouldn't!" he repeated. "You wouldn't! And you--Oh, I say! And you
talked of her happiness!"

"It is her happiness I am thinking of. If it were my own I should--"

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. She will be happier if I do not follow her, I
suppose. That is enough for me."

He regarded me with the same intent stare.

"Knowles," he said, suddenly, "she is at the home of a relative of
hers--Cripps is the name--in Leatherhead, England. There! I have told
you. Why I should be such a fool I don't know. And now you will go
there, I suppose. What?"

"No," I answered. "No. I thank you for telling me, Bayliss, but it shall
make no difference. I will respect her wish. I will not go there."

"You won't!"

"No, I will not trouble her again."

To my surprise he laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh, there was more
sarcasm than mirth in it, or so it seemed, but why he should laugh at
all I could not understand.

"Knowles," he said, "you're a good fellow, but--"

"But what?" I asked, stiffly.

"You're no end of a silly ass in some ways. Good night."

He turned on his heel and walked off.

CHAPTER XVII

In Which I, as Well as Mr. Solomon Cripps, Am Surprised

"And to think," cried Hephzy, for at least the fifth time since I told
her, "that those Crippses are her peopl