"Not when he went away," answered Mrs. White; "I thought he seemed put out when the strange gentleman called."
"There we have it!" exclaimed Paul, eagerly. "Who was the caller and what was his business, if you happen to know?"
"I don't know either. I never saw the gentleman before. He was here only a few minutes. He sent up his card, and though I looked at the name, I couldn't remember it, for it had a strange look, something like yours."
"May we go to his room? The card may still be there."
"I don't think it is," said Mrs. White, rising to follow the young men who were already half way up the stairs; "I don't remember seeing it when I cleaned up."
When Ralph and Paul had vainly examined the catch-alls, the vases, and every probable place into which a visitor's card might have been tucked, the Russian asked what had been done with the contents of the waste basket.
"My daughter Lizzie helped me," replied Mrs. White, "and took the waste papers downstairs. I'll ask her to find them and look for the card."
She left the room, and while she was gone the young men moved about nervously, repeatedly asking who the caller could have been, what possible connection his call could have had with Ivan's failure to appear at his wedding, and all manner of questions, vain and irritating, that arise when men are confronted by an emergency that teems with mystery. Mrs. White reported that her daughter had gone out and that the waste paper from Mr. Strobel's room had been burned.
"Lizzie may have seen that card," she said, "and I'll ask her when she comes in. I can't think where she can have gone."
"Was she here when the stranger called?" asked Ralph.