"Thompson, see if Mr. Lowell has returned yet."
The order was given by Mr. Pryor to the servant whom he had summoned by
ringing the bell in the drawing-room.
The young people of the family, together with their guests, Miss Pyne
and Lynde, were there, and each one glanced in some surprise at the
speaker when the order was given.
He had seemed preoccupied and worried during the entire evening, and
now as eleven o'clock came and still no signs of the missing secretary,
alarm took the place of anxiety.
There was not a question asked until the return of the servant, but an
ominous silence was preserved.
"Well?" inquired Mr. Pryor as he returned.
"He is not in his room, sir, nor has he been seen by any of the
servants."
"Has Mr. Lowell disappeared?" asked Miss Pryor, some concern expressed
in her tone.
"Yes," answered her father. "It is a most singular thing. He has never
gone out before to remain longer than an hour. He knew that I should
want him about a matter of some importance to-night and yet he has not
come in. I don't understand it."
Every eye was leveled in his direction and not toward Lynde Pyne, or
they might have observed his sudden pallor, and the expression of
absolute terror that had grown in his eyes.
"Mr. Lowell is fully competent to take care of himself," laughed Mrs.
Pryor. "You will make a perfect baby of that boy, Andrew, and destroy
in him the very characteristics that you have so much admired. Eleven
o'clock is not late in New York."
"It is for Lowell. He has no friends here; he is not accustomed to
going out; he did not mention that he should be gone for any length of
time, and furthermore, he knew that I should need him very particularly
to-night. The whole thing in a nutshell is, that it is not like Lowell,
and I am convinced that something has happened. If he is not here
within half an hour I shall be sure of it."
To the surprise of all, Lynde Pyne arose. His face was deadly white,
his lips quivering with dumb anxiety.
"You are quite right, Mr. Pryor!" he exclaimed. "Something must have
occurred out of the ordinary to keep him out so late. Have you any idea
where he was going?"
"No. Had he been gone longer I should say notify the police; but
they would take little interest in the case now, as he has been gone
so short a time, particularly as they know nothing of the regular
habits of the boy. I suppose the only thing is to wait until to-morrow
morning; then, if he has not come home, we must take every means in our
power to find him."
Lynde accepted the invitation that Mr. Pryor extended to him to remain
over night, and the following morning descended to breakfast without
ever having removed the clothing that he had worn the night before.
"You have heard nothing yet?" he inquired of Mr. Pryor, almost before
they had greeted each other.
"Not a word."
The answer confirmed his fears.
Something had happened, but what, it was impossible to determine.
He left Mr. Pryor to make what search he deemed advisable, and going
to his own home long enough to change his clothes, called upon Miss
Chandler.
He had not the remotest idea what he intended to say to her, and the
position in which he found himself placed was a decidedly unpleasant
one.
"How pale you look!" exclaimed Miss Chandler, offering him her lips to
kiss.
It was an exceedingly cold caress that fell upon them, but if she felt
it, she made no sign.
"I don't think I am quite well. I did not sleep last night."
"Has anything happened?"
"Not directly to me; but it concerns some friends of mine, who were
terribly upset; and as I was with them, naturally I shared their
anxiety."
"What was it?"
"A mysterious disappearance of a member of the family. It is really a
most extraordinary thing! The person I refer to is Miss Leonie Cuyler!"
He was looking directly at Miss Chandler as he spoke, in fact had not
removed his eyes from the handsome face since his entrance.
She started perceptibly, but recovered herself with suspicious
promptness.
"You surprise me!" she said, coolly. "I did not know that Miss Cuyler
had been found since her other mysterious disappearance. It seems that
she has a _penchant_ for disappearances. One could almost get used to
them, they occur so frequently."
"This is different from that. She had no reason for it, none earthly,
and I cannot understand it!"
"It seems to me that you are curiously interested in Miss Cuyler!"
"I am! She seems to be a young woman who is bearing the burden of the
wrong doing of some one else."
Miss Chandler's face flushed dully.
"It is a subject upon which I have given no thought," she replied,
coldly.
"Somehow I hoped that she might have come to you."
A pallor crept about the full lips that Pyne was not slow to see.
He was aware also of the sudden tightening of the hands about a
paper-cutter that she had taken up, and of the quick, questioning
glitter that came to her eyes, to fade almost at once under the
restraint that she was putting upon herself.
"To me?" she repeated, frigidly. "I fail to see why you should have
thought that. I scarcely knew Miss Cuyler."
"But you interested yourself in her once. She might have thought that
you would again."
"I had really forgotten her. What I did was not interest, but humanity.
She would never have come to me for anything."
The very manner of the utterance of the words convinced Pyne that she
had been there, and that Miss Chandler, his handsome _fiancee_, knew
more of the disappearance than she proposed to tell.
What was the secret that linked those two together, and what had Miss
Chandler done with the young woman who seemed to possess some secret
that she was determined to have concealed?
He knew that he could discover nothing further from her. He knew that
inquiry would bring forth no further information, and that the only
possible hope of ascertaining was to wait and watch.
He must secure the co-operation of a clever detective, and with the
assistance that he could lend, he hoped for the best.
His manner to Miss Chandler was affectionate, as usual, though there
was never any particular amount of demonstration.
He felt that whatever the nature of his discoveries might be, they
would not release him from his obligation, so that what he was doing
was because of his love for Leonie and the fact that humanity demanded
it.
As soon as consistency with his former habits would allow, he left the
residence of his _fiancee_, fully convinced that there was a deadly
secret, and determined that, for the sake of the innocent woman, he
would fathom it.
"You seem in some way to have changed to me of late, Lynde," she said
to him as he was leaving. "I feel that you are growing away from me. I
am afraid that I destroyed my own chances for happiness upon that day
that I forgot the modesty of my sex, and went to your office to plead
with you for what I could not allow to be wrested from me without a
struggle. I loved you, Lynde, and felt that to lose you would be worse
than death. You do not despise me for my unwomanliness, do you? You
will never forget the promise that you made to me on that day?"
"I will never forget that promise, Evelyn. You may be sure of that. You
must not think that your act that day caused you to fall in my esteem.
A woman loses none of the beauty of her sex because she loves. My
promise is yours, and there is nothing that can release me from it but
death."
She kissed him and let him go.
As the door closed upon him, she turned away with a short laugh.
"Fool!" she muttered. "He will keep his word, and under any
circumstances I am safe."