Willard was slowly gaining a semblance of self-control. He realized that he had been checkmated in some inexplicable way; but it was imperative that Power’s interference should not give ground for suspicion.
“I am beginning to grasp the situation now,” he said, forcing a ghastly smile. “Mr. Power heard of the accident to my train—it was derailed late last night—and, fearing lest I might be injured, he hurried Mrs. Marten away without telling her.”
“Then you came by way of New York, sir?”
“Yes. We were held up near Groton.”
“Pity you didn’t come by the Fall River steamer, sir. Then you would have caught Mrs. Marten, as the boat arrives here at a quarter of four in the morning.”
Willard wanted badly to swear at the well-meaning butler. He had chosen the train purposely in order to be in Newport the previous night, and his own haste had proved his undoing. Why should this fat menial put an unerring finger on the one weak spot in his calculations?
But he felt the urgent need for action, and he was only losing time now, as it was evident that Nancy had covered her tracks dexterously where her servants were concerned.
“Is that cab still waiting?” he demanded suddenly.
“Yes, sir. I didn’t notice any baggage. Shall I——”
“I don’t intend to remain. I’ll telegraph to New York, and go there by tonight’s steamer. Meanwhile, I have some friends at the Ocean House whom I would like to look up. By the way, don’t mention to anyone that I am upset by my daughter’s absence. It might come to Mrs. Marten’s ears, and she would be unnecessarily worried. My heart is slightly affected—you understand?”