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The truth was that he had not seen her in the plantation at all; he had merely seen her when she went in. He had seen her again when she came out. All that she did between the hours of three o'clock in the afternoon and eight o'clock, when she emerged from her hiding-place, had been hidden from him. He hoped, by surprising her, first with the intelligence that he had watched her and secondly with the disclosure of his identity, that she would tell him why she had followed Creager. Instead of which she had shut up tighter than an oyster.

That she was seeking somebody, he knew; Howett had told him. Who that somebody was, under what circumstances they had disappeared, he was as much in the dark as ever. He had spent a hectic and weary two months shadowing this beautiful girl, whose restless quest had led her by many perilous paths, if she had but known. Who was Mrs. Held? What object had the girl in seeking her?

Mr. Howett he knew and had met on both sides of the Atlantic. He was a widower, and there was only one child of the marriage. Had there been a sister, the hunt was self-explanatory. Who could be so precious to Valerie Howett that she should spend money like water and take risks that even he shuddered to think of in order to find her? It could not be for an ordinary friend. It would have been more understandable had the object of the search been a man.