Dorothy rang off and went about her household duties with a heavy heart.
Later on she motored to the village to do her marketing, and upon her return found that her father had telephoned. She immediately called up the New Canaan Bank, of which he was president.
“Any news, Daddy?” she inquired anxiously, as soon as she was put through to him.
“That you, Dorothy?” she heard him say. “Yes—Terry’s car has been found.”
“Where, Daddy?”
“On a wood road in the hills back of the Norwalk reservoir. The car was empty. A farmer driving through there found it early this morning and phoned the license number to the police.”
“But what in the world could Terry have been doing way over there? I know that road. It’s no more than a bridle path—the reservoir is three or four miles beyond Silvermine.”
“My opinion is that Terry was never anywhere near the place,” explained her father. “He was undoubtedly held up, removed to another car and his own run over to the spot where it was found.”
“No sign of him, I suppose?”
“No. I’ve talked with Walters. The poor man is nearly off his head with worry. We’re getting up searching parties to cooperate with the police. I’ll see you at dinner tonight. It will be impossible for me to get home at noon.”