"But she was there?"
"Yes; it was there she took refuge—you were right about that; but she left late last night. I don't know how or where. Miss Kingdon refused to tell me."
He pondered this an instant with half-closed eyes.
"I don't think she can slip through our fingers," he said, at last. "Every one about here knows her."
"If she took the train," I suggested, "the agent may remember."
"Yes," he agreed. "And by the way," he added suddenly, "it was a letter which caused all this trouble."
"A letter?"
"Yes; a special-delivery letter. It was delivered at 11.15 o'clock yesterday morning. The boy mounted the steps and was going to ring the bell, when Miss Lawrence herself, who was just starting up the stairs, saw him and came to the door, which was open, and took the letter. It was addressed to her and she signed for it."
"Where was it from?" I asked.
"It was from New York, and across the front, in a bold hand, was written, 'Important—read at once.'"