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Updated: September 26, 2025
"Ole man," said Kerns reproachfully, "there's one thing you have been deuced careful not to mention, and that is about what happened to you three years ago " "Steady!" said Harren; "there is nothing to tell, Tommy." "Nothing?" "Nothing. I never saw her again. I never shall."
"That won't do," said the young man brusquely; "I must see Mr. Keen to-day. I wrote last week for an appointment." The liveried darky was polite but obdurate. "Dis here am de 'pintment, suh," he explained persuasively. "But I want to see Mr. Keen at once," insisted Harren.
And that is sufficient. Come, Captain Harren, we are going out together." The Captain looked at him earnestly; something in Mr. Keen's eyes seemed to fascinate him. "You think that that it's likely we are g-going to see her!" he faltered. "If I were you," mused the Tracer of Lost Persons, joining the tips of his lean fingers meditatively "If I were you I should wear a silk hat and a frock coat.
A tall, gray man, faultlessly dressed in a gray frock suit and wearing white spats, turned from the breezy, open window to inspect him; the lean, well groomed, rather lank type of gentleman suggesting a retired colonel of cavalry; unmistakably well bred from the ends of his drooping gray mustache to the last button on his immaculate spats. "Captain Harren?" he said pleasantly. "Mr. Keen?"
"There's a cablegram in your rooms at this very moment," said the Tracer carelessly. "You have the extension you desired. And now, Captain Harren," with a singularly pleasant smile, "what can I do to help you to a pursuit of that true happiness which is guaranteed for all good citizens under our Constitution?"
"What on earth are you doing?" muttered Captain Harren, twisting his short mustache in perplexity. "I am copying what I see through this magnifying glass written on the window pane in the photograph," said the Tracer calmly. "Can't you see those marks?" "I I do now; I never noticed them before particularly only that there were scratches there."
Harren's dry lips unclosed, but he uttered no sound. "She is beautiful, is she not?" repeated the Tracer, turning to look at the young man. "Can you not see she is?" he asked impatiently. "No," said the Tracer. Harren stared at him. "Captain Harren," continued the Tracer, "I can see nothing upon this bit of paper that resembles in the remotest degree a human face or figure." Harren turned white.
Therefore I can only add that it was a figure, a poise, absolutely faultless, youthful, beautiful, erect, wholesome, gracious, graceful, charmingly buoyant and well, I cannot describe her figure, and I shall not try." "Exactly; don't try." "No," said Harren mournfully, "it is useless"; and he relapsed into enchanted retrospection. "Who was she?" asked Mr. Keen softly. "I don't know."
"Y-es," said the young man, astonished, "but I don't see " "It also involves the occult," observed Keen calmly. "We may need Miss Borrow to help us." Almost staggered, Harren stared at the Tracer out of his astonished gray eyes until that gentleman laughed outright and seated himself, motioning Harren to do likewise. "Don't be surprised, Captain Harren," he said.
I then touched another electric button, and in a minute I had before me the date of your arrival in New York, your present address, and" he looked up quizzically at Harren "and several items of general information, such as your peculiar use of your camera, and the list of books on Psychical Phenomena and Cryptograms which you have been buying " Harren flushed up.
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