What would you do? Where would you go?"
"How old was the girl?"
"Nineteen."
"I think," I said slowly, "that if I were nineteen, and in love with a
man, and hiding, I would hide as near him as possible. I'd be likely
to get a window that could see his going out and coming in, a place so
near that he could come often to see me."
"Bravo!" he exclaimed. "Of course, with your present wisdom and
experience, you would do nothing so foolish. But this girl was in her
teens; she was not very far away, for he probably saw her that Sunday
afternoon, when he was out for two hours. And as the going was slow
that day, and he had much to tell and explain, I figure she was not
far off. Probably in this very neighborhood."
During the remainder of that morning I saw Mr. Holcombe, at intervals,
going from house to house along Union Street, making short excursions
into side thoroughfares, coming back again and taking up his door-bell
ringing with unflagging energy. I watched him off and on for two
hours. At the end of that time he came back flushed and excited.
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