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 quixotically to retrail it to Singapore on the hypothetical chance of there finding the delinquent Tibbs, of speaking his mind to him, and of sending him back, if necessary by freight, to rejoin his distracted wife and terribly sick child. Beauling hated to leave these alone, but one of the doctors appeared a responsible man, not without kindness, and it seemed that Beauling's absence on even an utterly hopeless search for her husband would afford the wife more relief, while it lasted, than could possibly be furnished her by his gentle and considerate presence. A cable sent to Tibbs at his supposed address had met with no acknowledgment, but still the wife said, "Won't you go, Tom? I know he's there—won't you?" What it must cost a man on the home trail to double and go back did not occur to her. She knew nothing of Phylis and the Spanish castle. Beauling wrote:

Dear Phylis: To me, counting the days between here and home, came Fate, say-