“But what do you think has happened to her? She was too young to be led into an intrigue with a man. Still, I——”
“You mustn’t suspect her of that, Mrs. Staples!” exclaimed Merry. “Whatever has happened, I believe it was not the child’s fault. When I placed her in your hands, you remember, I hinted to you of the fact that there was a mystery connected with her father’s life, and that he was an outcast nobleman of Spain. Where he is now I cannot say. I last saw him in Fardale. He was then hunted by enemies, and he disappeared and has never been heard from since. I believe it was his intention to seek some spot where he would be safe from annoyance and could lead his enemies to believe he was dead. I believe this mystery which hung like a shadow over him has fallen at last on little Felicia. I would that I had known something of this before, that I might have arrived here sooner. I think Felicia would have trusted me—I am sure of it!”
“But now—now?”
“Now,” said Frank grimly, shaking his head, “now I must find her. You say you heard from your husband, who was then in a place called Warner?”
“Yes.”
“Then he may have tracked her thus far. It’s a start on the trail.”
Mrs. Staples placed a trembling hand on Frank’s sleeve.
“If you find her—the moment you find her,” she pleaded, “let me know. Remember I shall be in constant suspense until I hear from you.”
“Depend upon me to let you know,” assured Frank.
A moment later he was descending the steps. He walked swiftly along the palm-lined streets, revolving in his mind the perplexing problem with which he was confronted. Seemingly he was buried in deep thought and quite oblivious of his surroundings. As he passed around a corner into another street he glanced back without turning his head. Already he had noted that another man was walking rapidly in the same direction, and this sidelong glance gave him a glimpse of the man.