The Tracer of Lost Persons

The Tracer of Lost Persons

Project Gutenberg's The Tracer of Lost Persons, by Robert W.
Chambers This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and
with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: The Tracer of Lost Persons
Author: Robert W. Chambers
Release Date: August 15, 2004 [EBook #13180]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
TRACER OF LOST PERSONS ***

Produced by Steven desJardins and Distributed Proofreaders.

[Illustration: "'Then in charity say that word!'"]
THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS
BY R. W. CHAMBERS

TO MR. AND MRS. WILLIAM A. HALL
1906

For the harmony of the world, like that of a harp, is made up of
discords.
--HERACLITUS.

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS
CHAPTER I
He was thirty-three, agreeable to look at, equipped with as much
culture and intelligence as is tolerated east of Fifth Avenue and west of
Madison. He had a couple of elaborate rooms at the Lenox Club, a
larger income than seemed to be good for him, and no profession. It
follows that he was a pessimist before breakfast. Besides, it's a bad
thing for a man at thirty-three to come to the conclusion that he has
seen all the most attractive girls in the world and that they have been
vastly overrated. So, when a club servant with gilt buttons on his coat
tails knocked at the door, the invitation to enter was not very cordial.
He of the buttons knocked again to take the edge off before he entered;
then opened the door and unburdened himself as follows:
"Mr. Gatewood, sir, Mr. Kerns's compliments, and wishes to know if 'e
may 'ave 'is coffee served at your tyble, sir."
Gatewood, before the mirror, gave a vicious twist to his tie, inserted a
pearl scarf pin, and regarded the effect with gloomy approval.
"Say to Mr. Kerns that I am--flattered," he replied morosely; "and tell
Henry I want him."
"'Enry, sir? Yes, sir."

The servant left; one of the sleek club valets came in, softly sidling.
"Henry!"
"Sir?"
"I'll wear a white waistcoat, if you don't object."
The valet laid out half a dozen.
"Which one do you usually wear when I'm away, Henry? Which is your
favorite?"
"Sir?"
"Pick it out and don't look injured, and don't roll up your eyes. I merely
desire to borrow it for one day."
"Very good, sir."
"And, Henry, hereafter always help yourself to my best cigars. Those I
smoke may injure you. I've attempted to conceal the keys, but you will,
of course, eventually discover them under that loose tile on the hearth."
"Yes, sir; thanky', sir," returned the valet gravely.
"And--Henry!"
"Sir?" with martyred dignity.
"When you are tired of searching for my olivine and opal pin, just find
it, for a change. I'd like to wear that pin for a day or two if it would not
inconvenience you."
"Very good, sir; I will 'unt it hup, sir."
Gatewood put on his coat, took hat and gloves from the unabashed
valet, and sauntered down to the sunny breakfast room, where he found
Kerns inspecting a morning paper and leisurely consuming grapefruit

with a cocktail on the side.
"Hullo," observed Kerns briefly.
"I'm not on the telephone," snapped Gatewood.
"I beg your pardon; how are you, dear friend?"
"I don't know how I am," retorted Gatewood irritably; "how the devil
should a man know how he is?"
"Everything going to the bowwows, as usual, dear friend?"
"As usual. Oh, read your paper, Tommy! You know well enough I'm
not one of those tail-wagging imbeciles who wakes up in the morning
singing like a half-witted lark. Why should I, with this taste in my
mouth, and the laundress using vitriol, and Henry sneering at my
cigars?" He yawned and cast his eyes toward the ceiling. "Besides,
there's too much gilt all over this club! There's too much everywhere.
Half the world is stucco, the rest rococo. Where's that Martini I bid
for?"
Kerns, undisturbed, applied himself to cocoa and toasted muffins.
Grapefruit and an amber-tinted accessory were brought for the other
and sampled without mirth. However, a little later Gatewood said:
"Well, are you going to read your paper all day?"
"What you need," said Kerns, laying the paper aside, "is a job--any old
kind would do, dear friend."
"I don't want to make any more money."
"I don't want you to. I mean a job where you'd lose a lot and be scared
into thanking Heaven for carfare. You're a nice object for the breakfast
table!"
"Bridge. I will be amiable enough by noon time."
"Yes, you're endurable