"
"Did I say there was, Mr. Walraven? I mean to insinuate nothing. I
barely state facts, told me by your servants."
"Did Mollie leave no word where she was going?"
"There was no need; they knew. This was the way of it: a ragged urchin
came for her in hot haste, told her Miriam was dying, and desired her
presence at once, to reveal some secret of vital importance. Miss Dane
departed at once. Mr. Ingelow chanced to be at the house, and he
accompanied her. Neither of them has returned."
The face of Carl Walraven turned slowly to a dead, sickly white as he
heard the lawyer's words. He rose slowly and walked to one of the
opposite windows, keeping his back turned to Sardonyx.
"Has there been no letter, no message of any sort since?" he inquired,
huskily, after a pause.
"None. No one in your household knows even where this Miriam resides. As
for Mr. Ingelow, I called twice at the studio since, but each time to
find it locked."
There was a tap at the door.
"Come in," said the lawyer.
And enter a waiter, with a card for Mr. Walraven. That gentleman took it
with a start.
Pages:
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410