“Oh, yes,” he replied. “And we searched everything thoroughly last night after you phoned, but we couldn’t find a thing. Have you a picture of the girl?”
“No,” replied Marjorie, “but I think I can get you one. You want it for the papers?”
“Yes—and to help us locate her, and get her back.”
“Then you don’t think she is dead?” Marjorie’s voice trembled so that she could scarcely speak.
“No—I think she’ll turn up. It’s more than likely some love-affair,” said the policeman, indifferently. “Because, as far as we can see, there has been no robbery.”
“Thank goodness for that!” breathed Marjorie.
The girls hurried anxiously into the house, and searched it from cellar to attic; but they found no traces of Anna. Everything was just as it had been at the party the previous night; even the food was where Anna had put it; the silverware, the china, the furnishings were untouched. Marjorie uttered a sigh of relief.
“I begin to think that policeman is right,” she said hopefully. “Maybe it is only an elopement, after all.”
“But how could she get out?” questioned Lily.
“Oh, lovers have all sorts of devices,” replied Marjorie. “I mean to put that suggestion up to Mrs. McCreedy when I see her again.”