To all inquiries Cleaver's replies had been the same--Mr.
Marre, through overwork, had been obliged to take a rest; he did not
know where Mr. Marre was other than that Mr. Marre was making an
extended tour through the Orient, nor did he know when Mr. Marre might
be expected to return; Mr. Marre, purposely, in order that he might
escape all thought and care of business, and to preclude the
possibility of anything of that nature reaching him, had refrained from
giving the office any specific address. But he, Jimmie Dale, had not
been content with inquiries alone in those last few days--though the
result here again had been nothing. He was satisfied only that, in so
far as the main issue was concerned, Cleaver was not in Marre's
confidence, and that Cleaver not only did not know Marre's exact
whereabouts, but believed, as he had said, that Marre was travelling
somewhere in the Orient.
Jimmie Dale drew his hand heavily again across his forehead. It seemed
as though the very act of sitting here was a traitorous act to her,
that even in this momentary inaction he had cause for bitter
self-reproach and even for contempt--and yet he could see no way now to
take.
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