"
"I am afraid," said Quincy, "that such good fortune would be more
than miraculous."
"Come with your mother and friend then," said Mr. Wallingford as he
left them to change cars.
They went to the Hotel Metropole in Vienna. Quincy consulted his
guide book.
"Everybody lives in apartment houses in Vienna, so this book says.
The question is, in which one shall we find my mother and her maid?"
"All we can do," said Tom, "is to plug away every day. Keep a-going,
keep asking questions, keep our eyes and ears open, and keep up our
courage."
"Your plan is certainly 'for keeps,' as we children used to say. Come
along. Your plan is adopted. Have you written Lady Fernborough? 'Tis
your turn."
Many days of fruitless travel and the young men began to despair of
success. Quincy was debating with himself whether it would not be
better to give up the search for his mother, and follow up the clue
about his father. He felt that every day was precious.
"I have an idea, Quincy," Tom said one morning. "Perhaps your mother
is quite sick and has gone to a public hospital or a private one of
some kind."
"That's a fine idea, Tom. We'll begin on them after breakfast."
The sharp reports of gun shots and the softer cracking of pistols
were heard.
"What's that?" cried Quincy.
"Some men are on a strike. They had trouble with the police last
night and this morning's paper says the strikers have thrown up
barricades.
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