"She is not dead," replied Constance in a low tone.
"Not dead?" he repeated eagerly, catching at even such a straw as an unknown woman might cast out. "Then you know—"
"No," she interrupted positively, "I cannot tell you any more. You must call off all other searchers. I will let you know."
"When?"
"To-morrow, perhaps the next day. I will call you on the telephone."
She rose and made a hasty adieu before the man who had been prematurely aged might overwhelm her with questions and break down her resolution to carry the thing through as she had seen best.
Cheerily, Constance turned the key in the lock of her door.
There was no light and somehow the silence smote on her ominously.
"Florence!" she called.
There was no answer.