"No, I think not. If I need you, I'll wire."

"You won't need me," and he smiled again. "You know I'm no good at this kind of work."

"I know you'll be working harder than I will, keeping up with things at the office."

"Don't worry about that. You intend to stay here?"

"Yes; but only for a day or two, I trust. I can't think it a very difficult task to find a young woman who has run away in broad daylight in her wedding finery. Somebody must have seen her-that is, if she ran away at all."

"No doubt," he agreed. "Of course you'll find her-it's not about that I'm worrying so much; it's about her motive for doing such a thing. It seems preposterous to suppose that any woman in her right mind would run away half an hour before her wedding. Curtiss saw her at ten o'clock and found her happy, yet an hour later she had taken this desperate step. I wonder, Lester, if you realise just how desperate it was?"

"Yes," I said; "I think I do."

"Well, I'm free to confess I didn't until I saw its effect on my wife. Why, Lester, it was suicidal-it means social ostracism-no less. Even if it doesn't altogether ruin her life, it will always shadow it. It's something she can never outlive."

"Yes," I said again; "it's all that."

"And yet she was a thoughtful, self-controlled, well-balanced woman, who would foresee all this-who would realise the consequences more clearly than we can do. Lester-what was it drove her to it?"

"Ah, if I only knew! But I'm going to find out!"

"I hope you will-and yet I fear it, too. I'm afraid to think of it-I'm afraid to try to guess the secret-I'm afraid I'll unearth some grisly, loathsome skeleton, which should never have seen the light! But I'm sure of one thing," he added, his face hardening. "I think you suspected, too."

"What was that?"

"Whatever the secret is, Mrs. Lawrence knows it."

"Yes," I agreed, "I believe she does."

"And had a hand in her daughter's disappearance."

"Yes," I said again, "I think that very likely."

He stood for a moment longer, looking at me as though half-inclined to say something more; then he shook hands abruptly and left the room.

As I turned to sit down again, I noticed, in the chair from which I had arisen, something white crushed into one corner of the seat. I picked it up. It was a handkerchief of dainty lace and it was damp-with tears?

CHAPTER VI

An Astonishing Request

I sat down again and examined my find more closely. I am no connoisseur of lace, yet even I could appreciate the handkerchief's exquisite beauty. But how came it here, crushed into a corner of this chair? Whose was it? Some instinct-or was it merely a delusive hope?-told me that it belonged to Marcia Lawrence-that it was she who had left it here-that the tears which dampened it were her tears, tears of bitter, bitter sorrow for dead hopes and a future which had changed from gold to grey. She had stolen into the library for a moment's peace, that she might face her sorrow and decide what she must do. She had left it--

But I shook myself together impatiently. All this was merely theorising; I must lay my foundation first, get my facts; then perhaps it might be possible to build a theory which would prove the right one. Thus far in the investigation, I felt that I had been met with evasion rather than with frankness; I suspected that an attempt was being made to puzzle and bewilder me; I could see that my presence in the house was unwelcome to Mrs. Lawrence. Well, my stay would be a short one; I dropped the handkerchief into my pocket, opened the door, and stepped out into the hall.

The front door was open and two men were tugging an immense palm through it. Another was engaged in taking down the wreaths of smilax. By the tenderness with which he handled them I recognised the decorator. He stopped and looked at me inquiringly as I went toward him.

"I've come down from New York," I explained, "at the request of Mr. Curtiss to a.s.sist him in finding Miss Lawrence. You, I believe, are the last person who is known to have seen her. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Go ahead," he said, beaming with self-importance. "I'll be glad to tell you anything I know, sir."

"Do you remember what time it was when you called Miss Lawrence down to have a last look at the decorations?"

"It must have been nearly half-past eleven, sir. I remember hearing a clock strike eleven and thinking it'd take me about half an hour to get through."

"Did you notice anything peculiar in her behaviour?"

"Peculiar? No, sir. She was very kind and said some nice things about my work."

"She did not seem sad nor depressed?"

"Oh, no, sir; quite the contrary."

"When she left you, did she return upstairs?"

"I think so, sir. At least, she started for the stairs. I stepped into the dining-room for a moment to make sure everything was all right, and when I came out again she was gone."

"Was there any one else in the hall?"

"No, sir; I think not; not just at that moment, though of course people were pa.s.sing back and forth through it all the time."

"Did you notice a man loitering about-a stranger-middle-aged, dark-complexioned, with a dark beard or moustache-rather striking in appearance-perhaps a little dissolute?"

"No, sir," he answered, with a stare of surprise. "I didn't see any stranger about the whole morning-n.o.body I didn't know."

I confess I was rather disappointed; I had hoped that my shot would tell.

"And you heard no unusual noise-no scream, nor anything of that sort."

"No, sir; though I was so busy and worried I dare say I wouldn't have heard a cannon-shot."

"When did you learn that something was wrong?"

"I heard Mrs. Lawrence asking if any one had seen her daughter. Then she sent some of the servants to look for her."

"What time was that?"

"About ten minutes after I had spoken to her."

"Yes-what then?"

"Well, I didn't pay much attention, at first; but when the bridesmaids came, they raised such a hullabaloo that I couldn't help but take notice."

"What did Mrs. Lawrence do?"

"Why, she tried to quiet them-I must say she was the coolest one in the house-except one."

"Who was that?"