"How——?"
"As I was about to open the letter, a telegram came from her. 'Don't read my letter: I will call for it unopened in person,' it said. Picture my agony then! And now I am going to tell you something that will move you to compassion for me, if you never had it before. Yesterday she called for the letter. I was with you at Porchester Gardens at that very hour. When I came home, an extraordinary scene awaited me with my secretary, a Miss Prout.... I tell you this as to a friend, a Mother, who will believe even the incredible. An extraordinary scene.... Without the least warning, the least encouragement that I know of, Miss Prout declared herself in love with me. While I stood astonished, she fainted. I bore her to a sofa. Soon after she opened her eyes, she—drew—me to her—no, I will say that I was not to blame; and I was in that situation, when the library door opened, and who should be there looking at me but—yes—she."
Mrs. Marsh's eyes fell. There was a little pressure of the lips that revealed scant sympathy with compromising situations. And suddenly a thought turned her skin to a ghastlier white. What if the sight of that scene accounted for Rosalind's disappearance? If Rosalind was dead—by her own act? The old lady had often to admit that she did not know the deepest deeps of her daughter's character. But she banished the half-thought hurriedly, contenting herself with saying aloud:
"That made the second time she came to you yesterday. Why a second time?"
"I have no idea!" was the dismayed reply. "She uttered not one word—just turned away, and hurried out to her waiting cab—and by the time I could wring myself free, and run after her, the cab was going off. I shouted—I ran at top speed—she would not stop. I think a man was in the cab with her——"
"A man, you say?"
"I think so. I just caught a glimpse of a face that looked out sideways—a dark man he seemed to me—I'm not sure."
"It becomes more and more mysterious!"
"Well, we must be making a move to do something—first, have you breakfasted?"
She had eaten nothing! Osborne persuaded her to join him in a hurried meal, during which his motor-car arrived, and soon they set off together. He was for going straight to the police, but she shrank from the notoriety of that final exposure until she had the clear assurance that it was absolutely necessary. So they drove from friend to friend of the Marshes who might possibly have some information; then drove home to Mrs. Prawser's to see if there was news. Osborne had luncheon there—a polite pretense at eating, since they were too full of wonder and woe to care for food. By this time Mrs. Marsh had unbent somewhat to Osborne, and humbly enough had said to him, "Oh, find her, and if she is alive, every other consideration shall weigh less than my boundless gratitude to you!"