CHAPTER XXIX. ON THE TRACK.

As early, as practicable in the morning Gerald was astir, continuing his inquiries for the missing girl. Leonard, of course, accompanied him, with the pretence of being very busy and as anxious as Gerald for the success of the search, but inwardly fuming at his step-brother's activity. His spirits rose as hour after hour passed fruitlessly by; his hopeful anticipations were being realized; Emilia was gone, never to return again.

At three o'clock in the afternoon Gerald came to a standstill. The tortures he was suffering were reflected in his face.

"Poor boy, poor boy!" said Leonard, in his gentlest tone. "I can truly sympathize with you, Gerald."

"I know, Len, I know," said Gerald. "Let me think quietly; don't speak to me. Something must be done; something shall be done. It weighs like a sin upon my soul that I have driven my dear girl to misery. What must she think of me?"

All at once an inspiration fell upon him; his face lighted up; he spoke with hope and animation.

"Fool that I am," he cried, "to trust myself. I am going to my lawyers; if you care to come with me, Len----"

"Of course I care to come with you," interrupted Leonard. "But why to your lawyers? They cannot assist you."

"They can," said Gerald, in a decided tone; and they proceeded to the office arm-in-arm.

In a private interview with the head of the firm, at which Leonard was present, Gerald explained what he wanted. The firm was to set all their machinery to work at once to discover where Emilia had flown to; everything was to be done very quietly, and no expense was to be spared. When the young girl was found she was not to be informed that a search had been made for her, but she was to be carefully and secretly watched, and Gerald was to be immediately communicated with. That done, and Gerald conducted to the house in which Emilia had sought refuge, the business entrusted to the lawyers was concluded. Gerald left with the head of the firm a check for a large amount, in proof that he was thoroughly in earnest; and it was arranged that he or Leonard, or both of them, should return to their hotel and wait for news.

"If it is in the middle of the night," said Gerald, "let me know. Not a moment must be lost."

Then the step-brothers left the office and walked to their hotel. Leonard inwardly gave Gerald credit for being much more practical than he had imagined, but still hoped that his good luck would follow him, and that the business would fail. To Gerald the misery of entrusting the task to other hands lay in the necessity of his remaining inactive himself; but although he would not leave the hotel for fear that a messenger from the lawyers might arrive in his absence, he could not endure to remain idle. He sent a note to the kind maiden ladies who had sheltered Emilia, and received one in reply, to the effect that they had heard nothing of the lost girl; and at least once in every hour he despatched a communication to the lawyers, to which the invariable answer was that the inquiry was proceeding, but no clue had yet been discovered. Gerald did not undress that night; he slept fitfully in an arm-chair. Leonard prepared for any sacrifice in the furtherance of his own interests, took off his coat and waistcoat, and made himself as comfortable as he could with wraps and rugs on a sofa in the same room in which Gerald passed the night. Gerald urged him to go to bed, but he would not.

"It is not right," said the unhappy young man, "that you should share my fatigue and troubles. Go and have a good night's rest."

"I distinctly decline," replied Leonard, in an affectionate tone. "Your troubles are my troubles, and I feel them almost as deeply as yourself. My name is Thorough."

"There is no other man like you, I believe," said Gerald. "I will try and repay you one day."

"You shall repay me one day," thought Leonard, "and whatever I get will be richly earned."

Aloud, he said, "The only repayment I ask, my dear boy, is to see you happy with your Emilia. There, let us say no more about it. If you want me in the night you have only to call me, you will find me ready for anything."

Gerald woke a dozen times before daylight, and moved gently about so that he should not disturb his noble friend. He stole down to the night porter.

"No one has come for me?"

"No one, sir."

"If anyone calls send him to me instantly."

"Yes, sir."

It was a fortunate night for the porter, the tips he received from the distracted young man making a very handsome total. Gerald was grateful when morning broke. It would not be long before Emilia was in his arms. He made an effort to repair the disorder in his clothes and appearance, and long before the door of the lawyers' office was open one of his messengers was waiting for tidings. Still the same answer, always the same answer; no traces of Emilia had been found. He paced the room with the restlessness of a wild animal.

Once he stopped, and leaning heavily on Leonard's shoulder, whispered, "If she should be dead! Good God, if she should be dead!"

"So much the better for everybody," thought Leonard, as he passed his arm round Gerald's waist and endeavored to soothe him.

At noon the lawyer paid Gerald a visit.

"You have brought me news?" cried Gerald.

"None of a satisfactory nature," replied the lawyer. "We have ascertained for certain that the young lady is not in the town."

"But when she left the house in which she was sheltered," said Leonard, for Gerald was too overpowered to speak, "someone must have seen her."

"If so," said the lawyer, "we have not discovered the person, who has a good reason for coming forward, as we have offered handsome rewards for definite information of any kind concerning her. However, we have now taken other steps, and it is for the purpose of making Mr. Paget acquainted with them that I have paid this visit."

He paused, and Gerald motioned to him to continue.

"Being convinced that Miss Braham has left the town, we have despatched agents in every direction to track her down. These agents understand that they are to pursue their mission in the most delicate manner, and they are instructed to keep in regular telegraphic communication with us. My errand here is to communicate these proceedings to you, and to advise patience and"--with a significant look at Gerald--"peace of mind."

"I shall not know peace," said Gerald, "till she is found."

"All that is humanly possible is being done; we can do no more."

It was poor comfort, and it did not diminish the young man's distress. The lawyer remained for a few minutes longer, and then took his departure. The day waned, and the night, without any tidings, and on the following morning despair seemed to have reached its height in Gerald's mind.

"Upon my soul," thought Leonard, "I think he is going mad. Well, that would not be a bad ending to this insane hunt. I should be his guardian, and should know how to take care of him--and his money. His? No, mine, by the laws of nature."

During this day copies of telegrams received by the lawyers were sent to Gerald, but not one of them satisfactory.

"She is lost to me forever," groaned Gerald.

"Amen!" thought Leonard.

Early the next morning, however, a telegram was handed in with these words, "On the track." The lawyer hastened to Gerald.

"It is from one of our best men," he said. "Something will be known in the course of the day."

But it was not till another night had passed that Gerald learned where Emilia was.