Garrison snatched at his wits in time to act a part for which he had not been prepared.
"I'm afraid it's pretty late," he said, "but I came to surprise my wife."
"My word, that's too bad, sir, ain't it?" said the woman. "Mrs.
Fairfax has went out for the night."
This was the truth. Dorothy, together with the Robinsons, had left the house an hour before and gone away in an automobile, leaving no word of their destination, or of when they intended to return.
Utterly baffled, and wholly at a loss to understand this unexpected maneuver. Garrison stood for a moment staring at the woman. After all, such a flight was in reasonable sequence, if Dorothy were guilty. The one thing to do was to avail himself of all obtainable knowledge.
"Gone—for the night," he repeated. "Did Mrs. Fairfax seem anxious to go?"
"I didn't see her, sir. I couldn't say, really," answered the woman.
"Mr. Theodore said as how she was ailing, sir, and they was going away.
That's all I know about it, sir."
"I'm sorry I missed them," Garrison murmured, half to himself. Then a thought occurred to him abruptly—a bold suggestion, on which he determined to act.
"Is my room kept ready, in case of present need like this to-night?" he said. "Or, if not, could you prepare it?"
"It's all quite ready, sir, clean linen and all, the room next to Mrs.
Fairfax's," said the woman. "I always keeps it ready, sir."