A hundred conjectures flashed through their minds as they hastened to get into their clothes. Could Evelyn have done anything rash and foolish? But Miss Campbell felt sure the girl was much too thoughtful and unselfish to have involved them in a trouble of that sort. No, it was that Stone man, her father, who had spirited her away.
Pasquale appeared at the door. His face was an impenetrable mask, through which his small eyes twinkled like the eyes of an animal.
“Pasquale,” cried Miss Campbell, “what are we to do? Where has the young lady gone? Have your men really brought no news whatever?”
“No news, Signora,” he replied, rubbing his hands.
“Don’t stand there blinking at me,” she cried. “Tell me what I must do. Is there no telegraph station up here?”
“No, Signora, but breakfast, ita is served, Signora.”
“Breakfast! Don’t talk to me about breakfast when I’m half distracted. Have some coffee ready and send around the motor car. We will start at once for Sacramento or some town where we can telegraph.”
“The Signora will pleasea have breakfast,” continued the imperturbable Italian.
Miss Campbell was tying on her blue veil ready to leave the instant they had swallowed their coffee.
“Have the bags carried down,” she cried, “and strapped on the car.”