"But you surely have done something," protested Gerridge. "Telephoned to her late home or—"
"Oh yes, I have done all that, but with no result. She has not returned to her old home. Her uncle has just been here and he is as much mystified by the whole occurrence as I am. He could tell me nothing, absolutely nothing."
"Indeed! and the man, the one who whispered to her during the reception, couldn't you learn anything about him?"
Mr. Ransom's face took on an expression almost ferocious.
"No. He's a stranger to Mr. Fulton; yet Mr. Fulton's niece introduced him to me as a relative."
"A relative? When was that?"
"At the reception. He was introduced as Mr. Hazen (my wife's maiden name, you know), and when I saw how his presence disturbed her, I said to her, 'A cousin of yours?' and she answered with very evident embarrassment, 'A relative';—which you must acknowledge didn't locate him very definitely. Mr. Fulton doesn't know of any such relative. And I don't believe he is a relative. He didn't sit with the rest of the family in the church."
"Ah! you saw him in the church."
"Yes. I noticed him for two reasons. First, because he occupied an end seat and so came directly under my eye in our passage down the aisle. Secondly, because his face of all those which confronted me when I looked for the cause of her sudden agitation, was the only one not turned towards her in curiosity or interest. His eyes were fixed and vacant; his only. That made him conspicuous and when I saw him again I knew him."
"Describe the man."