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Updated: June 3, 2025
Her hair was glossy-black, parted in the middle, and falling in waves about her smooth white forehead; but her eyes were her real beauty, I never saw anything like them, Beth. They were such great, dark, tender eyes. They seemed to have worlds in them. It was not long before I loved Florence Waldon. I loved her." His voice had a strange, deep pathos in it.
Waldon noticed what I was looking at, and remarked, "It's a wonderful station and well worth a visit, if you have the time one of the most powerful on the coast, I understand." "How did the Lucie come to be equipped with wireless?" asked Craig quickly. "It's a little unusual for a private boat." "Mr. Edwards had it done when she was built," explained Waldon.
In the hotels there were knots of people evidently discussing the affair, for as we passed we could tell by their faces that they recognized us. One or two bowed and would have joined us, if Waldon had given any encouragement. But he did not stop, and we kept on down the street quickly.
Waldon shook his head. "Never had any particular use for it myself," he answered. "You say that Miss Verrall and her mother have gone back to the city?" pursued Kennedy, taking care that as before the others were out of earshot. "Yes." "I'd like to stay with you tonight, then," decided Kennedy. "Might we go over with you now?
I watched Edwards keenly. For the first time I realized that I had neglected to ask Waldon whether he had seen the unfinished letter. The question was unnecessary. It was evident that he had not. "Let me see, Waldon, if I've got this thing straight," Edwards went on, pacing restlessly up and down the saloon. "Correct me if I haven't.
There doesn't seem to be anything more I can do here, unless we get some news about Mrs. Edwards." Waldon seemed only too glad to agree, and no one on the Lucie insisted on our staying. We arrived at the Nautilus a few minutes later, and while we were lunching Kennedy dispatched the tender to the Marconi station with a note.
Kennedy did not seem to pay much attention to the remark, for his only reply was: "I'm taking a chance by this maneuvering, but I think it will work out that I am correct. By the way, Waldon, you needn't put on so much speed. I'm in no great hurry to get back. Half an hour will be time enough." "Jermyn? What did you mean by Jermyn?" asked Waldon, as we climbed to the deck of the Nautilus.
"I've had all the first editions of the evening papers," I hinted as we sped through the tunnel, "but the stories seemed to be quite the same pretty meager in details." "Yes," returned Waldon with a glance at Kennedy, "I tried to keep as much out of the papers as I could just now for Lucie's sake." "You needn't fear Jameson," remarked Kennedy.
Her brother is summoned back from his yacht and finds that she has left this pathetic, unfinished letter. But otherwise there is no trace of her. Her husband is notified and hurries out there, but he can find no clue. Meanwhile, Mr. Waldon, in despair, hurries down to the city to engage me quietly."
From that moment his resolution was taken, and his mother, who had witnessed the scene, gave her consent to his joining the old Thirty-seventh regiment, made up chiefly of Camport boys, including Billy Waldon, who had seen service on the Mexican border.
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