"It seems singular," observed Gilbert; "but I dare say that, if we knew all the circ.u.mstances, there would be a perfectly natural explanation, sweetheart. Pray do not give way, my darling," he besought her, but his own manner was not rea.s.suring.

"I cannot help being anxious," replied Kitty. Then she looked again at the cablegram from Wallace, and said, "The agent wires, 'Your father sailed from New York by _St. Louis_ on 21st.' That is quite definite, is it not? And he adds, 'No further advices.' Does that mean that father had advised Mr. Wallace that he had sailed? Oh, Gilbert, I am afraid, I am afraid! We imagine that the agent knew only of father's intention--an intention, we suppose, he was prevented from carrying out. But think what it means if we are wrong in imagining this altogether! Suppose that father did sail on the 21st! Gilbert, I am afraid," said Kitty, in a low tone; "I am afraid," she repeated, and the girl's voice suddenly fell into a whisper. She shivered slightly, and the tears stood in her eyes as she clung to her lover.

Gilbert took her in his arms, soothed and caressed her. In the course of their conversation he had tried to put the best construction on Morris Thornton's non-appearance, but at heart he felt, like Kitty, that there was good ground for misgiving. And to have told the girl what he knew, but she did not know, of the serious condition of her father, would be only to add to her trouble. As for himself, that knowledge made him appreciate the gravity of the matter even more than she did. He resolved, therefore, to set inquiries on foot at once, and furthermore to set to work vigorously himself to probe the thing to the bottom.

Next morning, accordingly, he went to the office of the American Line in London--the line of steamships to which the _St. Louis_ belonged--and asked the clerk who waited on him for a list of the pa.s.sengers who had sailed from New York by that vessel, on July 21st.

The list was handed to him immediately. A cursory glance showed him that the name of Morris Thornton was on it.

Dumfounded, he stared at the list, saying nothing. His surprise was so marked that the clerk could not help noticing it, and was surprised in his turn.

"It does not mean," said Gilbert at length, "at least, always, I suppose, that because an individual's name is on the steamer list he must necessarily have sailed, does it? I mean that he might be detained at the last moment."

"That, of course, is possible," replied the clerk. "The list is printed some little while before the ship sails. But I can tell you if there was any one on the list who in the end did not sail, if that is what you wish to know."

"That is very kind of you," said Gilbert, but he paused, reflecting that a question of this kind was a somewhat delicate one. And he was aware that the clerk was eyeing him curiously, almost suspiciously.

"Perhaps," said the clerk, "it would be simpler and better if you told me about whom you desire to ask. Is there any name on the list in which you are particularly interested?"

Gilbert noticed that the clerk was studying his face with marked intentness, and he wondered why; he understood later.

"I see on the list," said Gilbert at length, "the name of Mr. Morris Thornton."

"Mr. Morris Thornton!" exclaimed the clerk, whose tone was such as showed there was something out of the common attaching to the name.

"Yes, Mr. Thornton," Gilbert went on. "Can you tell me if he sailed by the _St. Louis_ on the 21st?"

"Are you a friend of Mr. Thornton's?" inquired the clerk, in an eager voice.

"In a sense, yes," replied Gilbert. "But you have not answered my question."

"In a sense," said the clerk, repeating Gilbert's first words; then he continued, "I have a most special reason for asking if you are a friend of his. What do you mean, sir, by saying that you are a friend of his in a sense?"

"Well, I am engaged to his daughter. She expected to see her father some days ago, but he has not arrived. She knew he intended sailing from New York on the 21st, though she only knew of it yesterday. She became alarmed on not seeing him or hearing from him, and she cabled to his agent in Vancouver, and in that way learned that her father was to have sailed on the 21st. She asked me to make inquiries. I shall be glad if you can help me. Can you tell me if Mr. Thornton sailed on the _St.

Louis_ or not?"

"Mr. Thornton," answered the clerk, in a queer, half-frightened voice, "did sail by the _St. Louis_!"

"What! Are you sure of that?"

"Absolutely."

Gilbert had a staggering sense that he was on the edge of some extraordinary affair, and he gazed earnestly at the clerk, who looked at him with corresponding intentness.

"Have you anything more to tell me?" asked Gilbert.

"I think it would be better if you spoke to the manager," said the clerk. "Would you mind coming in to see him?"

"Not at all; but why?"

"Well, you are not the only one who has been making inquiries about Mr.

Thornton--I may tell you that; but, please come into the manager's room."

Gilbert saw the manager, and explained his errand.

"I am afraid," said the manager, speaking in an impressive voice, "that something may have happened to Mr. Thornton; indeed, I have very little doubt of it."

"Why?"

"Mr. Thornton did sail from New York as he intended; not only so, he landed at Southampton in due course, and came on to London on the 29th of last month. On that day he took a room at the Law Courts Hotel in Holborn. These are the facts."

"How do you know he went to the Law Courts Hotel, may I ask?"

"I have it from the hotel people themselves, and why they told me of it you will presently understand. It appears that Mr. Thornton was a good deal of an invalid; at any rate, shortly after he got to his hotel he was taken very seriously ill--he had a violent heart-attack of the most alarming character. He fell down in the hall of the hotel and became unconscious. He was immediately conveyed to his bed and a doctor was summoned."

"Ah," said Gilbert, interrupting him, "I knew that he had a weak heart.

But, pardon me, pray continue."

"Mr. Thornton was successfully treated by the doctor, and after some hours recovered, but he remained in bed for the rest of that day and most of the next."

"He got better," said Gilbert, beginning to breathe more freely. "That is good news."

"Oh, but wait," said the manager. "I have not finished yet. He stopped in bed at his hotel most of the next day, as I have already told you--that was the 30th, you will remember. He improved so much that he told the attendant who had been detailed to look after his comfort, that he felt quite equal to getting up, and though the attendant remonstrated with him he persisted and did get up. You follow me, Mr. Eversleigh?"

"Perfectly," replied Gilbert, who saw that something very unusual was coming, and was most eager to hear the end of the story.

"Mr. Thornton had dinner at the _table d'hote_--he was as well as that, you understand. After dinner he sat for quite a time chatting with two or three of the other guests, and, rather late in the evening, he announced his intention of going out for a short stroll; he said the fresh air would do him good. And he did go out."

The manager paused, and looked at Gilbert significantly.

"He went out," he resumed, "but he has never returned."

CHAPTER X

"What?" cried Gilbert; he felt as if some one had struck him a sudden blow.

"He has never returned to the hotel," said the manager, very seriously.

"Ah! to the hotel, but where----" Gilbert stopped without completing the question, while excitement struggled with anxiety within his breast. He gazed imploringly at the other.

"He did not return to the Law Courts Hotel that evening," the manager went on, "and nothing has been seen or heard of him since."

Gilbert smothered an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n. What a thing, he thought, to have to tell Kitty!