"No." Miss Isobel's lips worked nervously; then she drew Quin into the dining-room and closed the door, "She and mother had a very serious misunderstanding, and—and I'm afraid mother was a little severe. I did not know Eleanor was gone until she failed to come down to dinner. I've just sent Hannah up to telephone my brother to see if she is there."
"She probably is," Quin spoke with more assurance than he felt. "About what time did she leave here?"
"It must have been between six-thirty and seven. How long would it take her to get out to Ranny's?"
"Depends on whether she went in her machine or a street-car," said Quin evasively. "Besides, she may have gone to the Martels'."
"I don't think so," said Miss Isobel, twisting her handkerchief in her slender fingers; "because, you see, she—she took her suit-case."
For the first time, Quin's face reflected the anxiety of Miss Isobel's.
When Hannah returned she reported that no one answered the telephone at the Randolph Bartletts'.
"Suppose the child gets there and nobody is at home!" groaned Miss Isobel, whose imagination always rushed toward disaster. "What on earth shall I do?"
"Leave it to me," said Quin. "I'll run around to the Martels', and if she's not there I'll go out to Valley Mead. She's sure to be one place or the other."
"Of course she must be; but I'm so anxious! You will go right away, won't you? And telephone the minute you find out where she is. Then I'll tell mother I gave her permission to go."