"It will all come right, sir. There is another train at half-past eight.

If she should take that, she will reach West Point in full time for the opening of the exercises. We started unnecessarily early."

"I always take time by the forelock, Cora. That habit is one of the factors of my success in life."

The express train flew on, and in due time reached Garrison's, opposite West Point. The ferry boat was waiting for the train. As soon as it stopped, Mr. Rockharrt handed his granddaughter out. The other pa.s.sengers followed, and made a rush for the boat.

"Let it go, Cora. We must take time to telegraph to Mrs. Stillwater, and we can wait for the next trip," said Mr. Rockharrt, still keeping a firm grip on his granddaughter's arm, lest through woman's inherent stupidity she should also lose herself, as he marched her off to the telegraph window of the station.

The telegram, a very long-winded one, was sent. Then they sat down to wait for the coming boat, which crossed the going one about midstream, and approached rapidly.

In a few minutes they were on board and steaming across the river.

They reached the opposite bank, and Mr. Rockharrt led his granddaughter out, and placed her in the carriage he had engaged by telegraph to meet them, for carriages would be in very great demand, he knew.

They drove up to the hotel in which he had taken rooms. Here they went into their parlor to rest and to wait for an answer to the telegram.

"It is no use going over to the academy now. We could not get sight of Sylvan. The rules and regulations of the military school are as strict and immutable as the laws of the Medes and Persians," said old Aaron Rockharrt, as he dropped heavily into a great armchair, leaned back and presently fell asleep.

Cora never liked to see him fall into these sudden deep slumbers. She feared that they were signs of physical decay.

She sat at a front window, which, from the elevated point upon which the hotel stood, looked down upon the brilliant scene below, where crowds of handsomely dressed ladies were walking about the beautiful grounds. She sat watching them some time, and until she saw the tide of strollers turning from all points, and setting in one direction--toward the academy.

Then she glanced at her grandfather. Oh! how old and worn he looked when he lost control of himself in sleep. She touched him lightly. He opened his eyes.

"What is it? Has the telegram come from Mrs. Stillwater?" he inquired.

"No, sir; but the visitors are pouring into the academy, and I am afraid, if we do not go over at once, we shall not be able to find a seat," said Cora.

"Oh, yes, we shall. Strange we do not get an answer from Mrs.

Stillwater," said the old man anxiously, as he slowly arose and began to draw on his gloves and looked for his hat.

Cora went and found it and gave it to him.

Then she put on her bonnet.

Then they went down together, crossed the grounds, and entered the great hall, which was densely crowded. Good seats had been reserved for them, and they found themselves seated next the Dean of Olivet on Cora's right and the Wall street broker on Mr. Rockharrt's left.

I do not mean to trouble my readers with any description of this by-gone exhibition. They can read a full account of such every season in every morning paper. Merely to say that it was late in the afternoon when the exercises were over for the day.

Mr. Rockharrt and Cora Rothsay returned to the hotel to a very late dinner.

The first question that the Iron King asked was whether any telegram had come for him. He was told that there was none.

"It is very strange. She could not have received mine," he said, and he went directly to the telegraph office of the hotel and dispatched a long message to the clerk of the Blank House, telling him of how Mrs.

Stillwater had been separated from her party by the pressure of the crowd, and how she had thereby missed their train, and inquiring whether she had returned to the hotel, whether she had got his message, and if she were well. Any news of her, or from her, was anxiously expected by her friends.

Having sent off this dispatch, Mr. Rockharrt went in to dinner. The dinner was long. The courses were many. Mr. Rockharrt and his granddaughter were still at table when the following telegram was placed in his hands:

BLANK HOUSE, New York, May, 18--

Mrs. Stillwater is not here, and has not been seen by any of our people since she left the house with your party for the Hudson River Railway depot. We have made inquiries, but have no news.

M. MARTIN.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE SEARCH.

"This is intolerable," muttered old Aaron Rockharrt, in a tone as who should say: "How dare Fate set herself to baffle ME?"

He then took tablets and pencil from his pocket and wrote the following telegram:

COZZENS HOTEL, WEST POINT, May ----, 18--

To M. MARTIN, ESQ., Blank House, New York City:

Just received your dispatch. There has been foul play. Report the case at police headquarters. Set private detective on the track of the missing lady. Last seen at the gate of the Hudson River Railway depot, waiting for 7:30 a.m. train for West Point yesterday morning, but not seen on train. Give me prompt notice of any news.

AARON ROCKHARRT.

He beckoned a waiter and sent the message to be dispatched from the office of the hotel.

Then he set himself to finish his dinner.

After dinner he went out on the piazza.

Cora followed him. There was quite a number of people out there, seeing whom, he walked out upon the open grounds.

"May I come with you, grandfather?" inquired Cora.

"If you like," was the short answer.

As they walked on he said:

"I think it possible that Mrs. Stillwater, after missing our train, left for North End."

"Yes, it is possible," a.s.sented Cora.

No more was said. They walked on for half an hour and then returned to the hotel and bade each other good night.

The next morning they met in the parlor.

Old Aaron Rockharrt was reading a New York morning paper. Cora went up and bade him good morning.