"I trust, after longer acquaintance, he may not find me a
disappointment," said Phil warmly, and a faint look of curiosity
flashed into the duke's eyes. As they were saying good-night,
Quentin looked about for the man who might be Courant, the
detective. But the duke's companion was not to be seen.

The next morning Quentin proceeded in a very systematic and
effective way to locate the home of the Garrisons. He was aware, in
the beginning, that they lived in a huge, beautiful mansion
somewhere in the Avenue Louise. He knew from his Baedeker that the
upper town was the fashionable quarter, and that the Avenue Louise
was one of the principal streets. An electric tramcar took him
speedily through the Boulevards Regent and Waterloo to the Avenue
Louise. A strange diffidence had prevented him from asking at the
hotel for directions that would easily have discovered her home.
Somehow he wanted to stroll along the avenue in the early morning
and locate the home of Dorothy Garrison without other aid than the
power which tells one when he is near the object of his adoration.
He left the car at the head of the avenue and walked slowly along
the street.

His mind was full of her. Every vehicle that passed attracted his
gaze, for he speculated that she might be in one of them. Not a
well-dressed woman came within the range of his vision but she was
subjected to a hurried inspection, even from a distance. He strode
slowly along, looking intently at each house. None of them seemed to
him to hold the object of his search. As his steps carried him
farther and farther into the beautiful avenue he began to smile to
himself and his plodding spirit wavered. After all, thought he, no