Returning to the house, she sat down at the table to think of a possible something she had done to cause John’s unkind behavior.
A shadow darkened the doorway. She turned mechanically. A tall, grave and elderly gentleman, with stooping shoulders and bared head, stood in the entrance.
Constance arose. He approached her and said softly: “I beg to apologize for the intrusion. The door being open, and seeing you within, I entered unannounced.”
“Oh, Mr. Williams! Have you any tidings of Dorothy?”
“I regret not being able to bring any tidings of your child. The river has been carefully dragged for a considerable distance in front of ‘Rosemont.’ I fear she is drowned and the body carried down to the Columbia.”
“My poor darling!”
“There is yet hope, however, that your child lives. An old cripple—a disreputable looking vagabond—was seen lurking about the grounds the night she was lost. He has not been seen since. Detectives are baffled in tracing him. He may have abducted your child. It’s the only hope that she is alive, though I admit, a frail one.”
“Heaven give me strength to hope it is so. But who could be so cruel as to steal away my little darling? No, no, she is drowned!”
“I have to announce a disagreeable errand,” and he paused, not quite satisfied of the propriety of the moment for so serious a declaration as he was about to make; but he at length continued hesitatingly:
“As—as your—legal adviser—.” Again he paused.