The question seemed to increase their disquietude.
“We don’t know where she is,” said young Mrs. Garcia.
“Isn’t she in her room?” he demanded.
“No—that’s what’s so funny. I thought she was sleeping an awful long time and I just peeked in and she isn’t there. And Benito’s been all over the house and can’t find her. It seems so crazy of her to go out in all this rain, but her outside things are not in the closet or anywhere.”
They stood silent for a moment, eying one another with faces of disturbed query.
The opening of Pierpont’s door roused them. The young man appeared in the aperture and then came slowly forward.
“Have you seen Miss Moreau?” he said to young Mrs. Garcia.
“No,” said Barron hurriedly; “but have you?”
“Yes, she was down in my room this afternoon singing.”
“Singing!” echoed the others in wide-eyed amazement.