"Yes. And I'll order out the car and try the roads myself." Owen looked suddenly alert. "If she should be attempting to walk home, or anything of that sort, I should pick her up."
"Yes. And I should give orders to the servants to have everything ready for Mrs. Rose—food, and fires, and things, when she returns. She'll be chilled to the bone with this mist."
"Yes. I'll do it at once. I'll go and get on the 'phone, if you'll be so good as to ring for the servants. I'll order a fire in her room, and a little supper."
He turned away, full of hope now that there was something to be done; and Herrick was following him, when Dowson, who had been temporarily forgotten, asserted his presence.
"And what am I to do while you're searching for her?" His rage had died away, and he looked the picture of dejection. "Can't I do anything? I—you know I'd die for Toni—for Mrs. Rose. Can't you suggest something for me to be doing?"
Owen turned on him fiercely.
"You? You've done enough harm for one night. Suppose you take yourself off—we've seen all we want of you, I assure you."
"But——"
"Don't stand arguing there," said Owen in a voice whose fury made the young man wince. "We've had more than enough of you. Be so good as to take yourself off before I kick you out of the house."
Leonard Dowson gave one last look at the other man's face as though to see whether this threat was meant to be taken literally. What he read there apparently decided him; for with a hoarse sigh he turned away in the direction of the front door.