By this time the attention of all present was drawn to him, and there were general expressions of sympathy. But of these Judge Bolitho seemed unconscious.
"Good-night, gentlemen," he said. "I am sorry to be obliged to leave you, but I don't feel very well."
"There was something in that letter," was the general whisper. "Something that disturbed him!"
But the fact was almost forgotten as soon as he had left the room.
The judge found his way to his own apartment.
"Where's Mary, I wonder?" he said. But Mary was nowhere visible. He knocked at her bedroom door, but received no answer. He went into all the rooms set apart for their use, but she was nowhere to be seen.
"She did not tell me she was going out, either," he reflected. But it was evident he had very little interest in her whereabouts. He acted more like a man in a dream than one in full possession of his faculties. He threw himself into an arm-chair and again carefully read the letter which had been sent to him. When he had finished, he looked around the room as though he were afraid he were being watched.
"No; no one is here," he said. "No one knows."
For fully five minutes he sat holding the letter in his hand, staring into vacancy.
"What can it mean? What can it mean?"