"But she must have left some traces."
"She left her dressing-bag, if that's anything," said Dowson gloomily. "It's in the car outside. I thought at least she'd have come back here, and I had to come on to make sure. I"—for a second his rough voice softened—"I had to be certain she was safe."
"Well, she isn't here." Owen spoke harshly. "You were very ready to take her away, with your damned philanderings and what not, but you might at least have looked after her. Where is she? Good God, man, you're not only a blackguard and a thief—you're a damned fool as well!"
"I may be a fool, but I'm not a blackguard!" Mr. Dowson's eyes blazed in his pallid face. "I didn't marry the girl and then neglect her—I didn't win her love and then throw it aside as of no importance—I didn't break her heart with my sneers and coldness, as you did. You may be her husband and I'm only a man who loves her, but I'll guarantee I'd have known how to treat her a million times better than you ever did."
The two men glared at one another furiously; and for a moment Herrick feared Owen was about to strike the man who defied him. Owen's face was convulsed with rage, his eyes looked almost black, and a vein in his temple hammered madly.
Herrick stepped forward hastily.
"I say, excuse me reminding you that this is not the time for recriminations. Mrs. Rose has not returned, and the thing to do now is to set all possible inquiries on foot. You agree with me, Rose?"
Owen turned to him, the passion dying out of his face, leaving only a great weariness and a great dread.
"You are right. We must find Toni. But how?"
"Well, we'd better make inquiries at Stratton first. You are on the 'phone? Good. Well, we will ring up the railway station, and the hotels. Mrs. Rose may have gone to one of them for the night. And we could try the garages. Possibly she will hire a car to bring her home."