In silence the party returned to the Hotel du Glacier. Most were appalled by the sad fate of Frank Hunter, but Sharpley was moved by another feeling. There was not much chance of Frank's being found alive, or in a condition to expose his murderous attempt, but, of course, there was a slight possibility. While that existed he felt ill at ease. He would gladly have left the place at once, but this he could not do without exciting suspicion. He must wait till the return of the party.
It was not till nightfall that the party were seen returning. Sharpley waited for their report in great suspense.
"Have you found him?" he demanded, pale with excitement.
Baptiste shook his head.
He gave a sigh of quiet relief, which was interpreted to be a sigh of sorrow. "I thought you would not," he said.
The next day he left the hotel.
"I must go to America," he said, "to tell Frank's mother the terrible truth. I cannot trust it to a letter."
"But suppose the body is found," said Baptiste.
"Bury it decently and write instantly to me, and I will transmit the necessary sum. Or, hold, here are a hundred and fifty francs. If he is not found, keep them yourself."