"And at what time did you find the door ajar?"
"At six-ten, sir. I come on duty at six."
"You did not see Miss Jones?"
"No, sir—if that were the lady's name."
"You found no one prowling about the halls?"
"Didn't see a soul, sir."
"Thank you; that's all."
When she had gone the detective said to the Colonel in a reassuring tone:
"I wouldn't worry, sir, although I'll admit this prolonged absence of Miss Jones is puzzling. But perhaps she has gone to call on an old friend and will presently return and apologize. I remember her mother—a remarkable woman, sir—who used to live at the Voltaire. She had a lot of friends in Chicago, did Mrs. Antoinette Seaver Jones, so it's likely her daughter is looking some of them up."
"I wish you would do all you can to locate her," pleaded Colonel Hathaway. "The young girl was placed in my care by her father and I feel personally responsible for her safety."