tween
England and the Continent, the continuity of the travelling could be
largely hidden. Moreover, thought Merriman, why print the notes in
France at all? Why not produce them in England and so save the need for
importation?

On the whole there seemed but slight support for the theory and
several strong arguments against it, and he felt that Madeleine must be
mistaken, just as he and Hilliard had been mistaken.

Oh! how sick of the whole business he was! He no longer cared what the
syndicate was doing. He never wanted to hear of it again. He wanted
Madeleine, and he wanted nothing else. His thoughts swung back to her
as he had seen her that afternoon; her trim figure, her daintiness, her
brown eyes clouded with trouble, her little shell-like ears escaping
from the tendrils of her hair, her tears.... He broke out once more into
a cold sweat as he thought of those tears.

Presently he began wondering what his own next step should be, and
he soon decided he must see her again, and with as little delay as
possible.

The next afternoon, therefore, he once more presented himself at the
house in the clearing. This time the door was opened by an elderly
servant, who handed him a note and informed him that Mr. and Miss Coburn
had left home for some days.

Bitterly disappointed he turned away, and in the solitude of the lane he
opened the note. It read:

"Friday.

"Dear Mr. Merriman,--I feel it is quite impossible that we should part
without a word more than could be said at our interrupted interview this
afternoon, so with deep sorrow I am writing to you to say to you, dear
Mr. Merriman, 'Good-bye.' I have enjoyed our short friendship, and all
my life I shall be proud that you spoke as you did, but, my dear, it
is just because I think so much of you that I could not bring your life
under the terrible cloud that hangs over mine. Though it hurts me to say
it, I have no option but to ask you to accept the answer I gave you as
final, and to forget that we met.

"I am leaving home for some time, and I beg of you not to give both
of us more pain by trying to follow me. Oh, my dear, I cannot say how
grieved I am.

"Your sincere friend,

"Madeleine Coburn."

Merriman was overwhelmed utterly by the blow. Mechanically he regained
the taxi, where he lay limply back, gripping the note and unconscious of
his position, while his bloodless lips repeated over and over again the
phrase, "I'll find her. I'll find her. If it