There was no answer. He called again, went inside. Marie was not down-stairs. He called Mrs. Stickney. The widow answered from above.
“Is Marie up there?” Moran called.
“Hain’t seen her,” said the widow.
“Didn’t she just come up there?”
“Not unless she’s quieter’n a spook. Nobody’s passed my door.”
“Where is she, then?” He was in a rage now. “Where’s she gone to?”
“I hain’t no idee,” said the widow, sharply, “but if she’s where you don’t know where she is I calc’late I’m satisfied.”
Her door slammed. Moran stood an instant. The suspicion that had been germinating within him became certainty. The girl had played him like a fish. She was gone to warn Ashe.
He pulled his hat on furiously and ran—ran toward the hotel to intercept Marie.