CHAPTER XXIV


Just before they left Paris a letter had come for Lewis--a big, official
envelop, unstamped. He tore it open, full of curiosity and wonder. Out
fell a fat inclosure. Lewis picked it up and stared. It is always a
shock to see your own handwriting months after you have sent it off on a
long journey. Here was his own handwriting on a very soiled envelop,
plastered over with postmarks. How quaint was the superscription, how
eloquent the distant dates of the postmarks! "For Natalie. At the Ranch
of Dom Francisco, on the Road to Oeiras, in the Province of Ceara,
Brazil."

The envelop had been cut open. Lewis took out the many sheets and
searched them for a sign. None was there. He looked again at the
envelop. Across it was stamped a notice of non-delivery on account of
deficient address. Then his eyes fell on faint writing in pencil under a
postmark. He recognized the halting handwriting of Dom Francisco's
eldest girl. "She is gone," she had written. Nothing more.

"Gone?" questioned Lewis. "Gone where? Where could Natalie go?" He read
parts of his letter over, and blushed at his enthusiasms of almost a
year ago. Almost a year! Leighton called him. He tore up the letter and
threw it away. It was time to start. Then had come the good-by to
Cellette, and after that the wonders of the road had held his mind in a
constantly renewing grip. They still held it.