“We can’t find him.” I heard Fargo spring from his bed, and I turned to the room to my left. Yet in an instant I remembered and halted on the threshold. This was Nealman’s room, dark and chill with shadows. I scratched a match and lifted it high.
But no one was here. My voice rang with a hollow sound back to me. Our shouts had aroused Nopp, and in a moment he came out in the hall to join us. I think Nopp was a steadying influence on us both. He walked, rather than ran, he was perfectly composed, wholly himself, and his voice when he spoke was low and even. Yet there was no tone or note of an attempt to belittle our alarm. He acted as I have seen strong men act in the presence of some great disaster—calmly, soberly, rather white-faced and silent, but unflinching and steadfast.
There was no amazement in Nopp’s face. Evidently he had expected just such a development.
“Another gone, eh?” he said. “I wish these devils would stay in their rooms, where they belong. What’s taking them out there, Killdare?”
“How do I know? Maybe they just can’t sleep—want to walk——”
“They wouldn’t want to walk in that part of the grounds, if they’re human, unless they’ve got business there. But no matter. We’ve got to look around for him at least. I don’t suppose it will do any good——”
He spoke with an unmistakable fatalism. “You don’t mean—that he’s gone like the rest——”
I heard our low breathing as I waited for his answer. “What’s the use of fooling ourselves any more, Killdare?” he replied quietly. “We’re up against something—God knows what. Of course he’s gone—just like the rest. Where else could he be?”
We turned once more into his room. Wilkson had reported rightly—his bed had not been slept in, and there was not the slightest sign of disorder. His coat—a well-made garment of some gray, cotton cloth hung on the back of his chair, and the butts of two cigars lay on his smoking stand. He was not in his bathroom, nor did we hear his voice from some adjoining room.
And now all the other guests, all of whom slept on this same floor, were gathering about us, wakened by the sound of our voices. Marten came, swearing under his breath, and Van Hope’s brow was beaded with perspiration that glistened in the dim light. But none of them knew where Major Dell was. Indeed none of them had seen him since he had gone to his room.