"Where would she go to?"
"How do I know? Heaven send she hasn't done anything foolish. But this morning she sent Virginie, that French woman, up to the village for something—on Sunday when all the shops are shut. The housemaid told me they'd been trying to find out what it was and Virginie wouldn't tell. Oh, dear, could she have gone off with someone?"
We were talking it over in low voices when a call came. It was from Mapleshade to the Dalzells'. As I made the connection I whispered to Anne what it was and she whispered back, "Listen."
I did. It was from Mrs. Fowler, all breathless and almost crying. She asked for the Doctor and when he came burst out:
"Oh, Dan, something's happened—something dreadful. Sylvia's run away."
I could hear the Doctor's voice, small and distant but quite clear:
"Go slow now, Connie, it's hard to hear you. Did you say Sylvia'd run away?"
Then Mrs. Fowler said, trying to speak slower:
"Yes, with Jack Reddy. We've been hunting for her and we've just found a letter from him in her desk. Do you hear—her desk, in the top drawer? It told her to meet him at seven in the Lane and go with him in his car to Bloomington."
"Bloomington? That's a hundred and fifty miles off."