And then curiously enough she, too, disappeared. Letters from her
suddenly ceased. No one knew what had become of her."
She looked at him with a faint smile.
"Now," she said, "your story is becoming interesting. Do go on. I want
to know where you and Mr. Pelham come in."
"Pelham, I think," he continued gravely, "was their oldest friend. He
sent for me. We were old college chums, and I went. This trouble with
his eyes had only just come on, and he was practically helpless--much
more helpless than the ordinary blind person, because it was all new to
him. This boy and girl were his old and dear friends. He was longing to
be off to Paris to search for them himself, and yet he knew that so far
as he was concerned it would be simply wasted time. He showed me the
girl's photograph."
"Well?"
"I went in his place."
"And did you find either of them?"
"No."
"I wonder," she said, "why you have told me this story?"
"I am going to tell you why," he answered. "Because when Pelham heard
you laugh last night he was like a madman. He believed that it was the
voice of Phyllis Poynton. And I--I--when I saw you, I also felt that
miracles were at hand.
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