“Where in thunder have you been?” asked Chilvers, and it suddenly occurred to me that I had told no one of my mission, neither had I left my address.  The next instant I realised that Miss Harding had not told of the receipt of my letter.  This might mean much or little.

“My Uncle Henry died out in New Mexico,” I said.

“Too bad,” said the sympathetic Chilvers.  “Unless one of my uncles dies pretty soon I’ll have to go to work.  But why didn’t you let us know where you were.”

“I had just time to catch a train,” I said.  “What’s the news?”

“News?  Let’s see?” reflected Chilvers.  “Grandma Marshall, here, won the July cup, and our team won the match with South Meadows by a score of twenty-three to five.  Say, we didn’t do a thing to those boys.  Moon has bought two new clubs, Boyd made the sixth hole in two, Duff won four dozen balls from Monahan, Lawson has a new stance which he claims will lengthen out his drive twenty yards—­and speaking about Lawson, he discovers something every week which lengthens his drive at least twenty yards.  I’ve figured out that he should be driving at least five hundred yards from improvements alone.  That’s all the news I can think of; do you know any, Marshall?”

“They have moved the tee back on the seventh hole,” volunteered Marshall, “and—­oh, yes; Wallace has gone.”

“Where’s he gone?” I asked, exasperated at the character of their information.

“Someone died over in Scotland and left him money,” said Chilvers.  “Just as soon as we get a good professional, his rich relatives pass away and we lose him.”

“How is Mr. Harding?” I asked.

I saw Chilvers wink at Marshall.

“Did you say Mr. Harding or Miss Harding?” asked Chilvers.

“I said Mr. Harding.  What’s the matter; are you deaf?”

“I’m a little hard of hearing at times,” he grinned.  “Let’s see; when did Mr. Harding leave here, Marshall?”

“It was the day that you and I beat Boyd and Lawson,” said Marshall, after a long pause.  “That was a week ago.”

“I presume he’s in the city,” I carelessly remarked.

“I presume he is not,” laughed Chilvers.  “He’s probably rolling around in the English Channel right this minute.”

“Gone abroad?”

“That’s what.”

“And Mrs. Harding?” I inquired.

“Gone with him, of course.  Also Miss Harding.”

“And Carter,” added Marshall.  “They all went on the same boat.”

“At the same time,” laughed Chilvers.  “You see that lots of things have happened since you went away.  What are you looking so white and glum about, Smith?  Brace up, man; it may not be true.  Come up to the club house.  We’ve got a new brand of Scotch, and it’s great.”

I don’t know whether my laugh sounded natural or not, but I cheerfully could have murdered both of them.

In those brief minutes I learned practically all I now know concerning the departure and the whereabouts of the Hardings and Carter.  There was a lot of mail awaiting me, and I opened letter after letter hoping against hope that there might be one from Miss Harding.  There was none.