“Oh, my little love, how cruelly you have misunderstood me! But only let me find you again, bonnie Floy, and I will show you that I, too, can love with changeless constancy.”
But oh, how far away that blessed time seemed; for Floyd Landon failed to find any clew to the beautiful runaway, and at last he appeared at the house saying rather abruptly that he wished to give up the case.
CHAPTER XLVI.
“THE HOUSE IS HAUNTED.”
Beresford could find no words in which to express his surprise and chagrin.
He could only stare, speechlessly, at the detective waiting for an explanation.
He saw that Landon looked pale and nervous.
“You are ill!” he exclaimed, at last, as if that explained all.
“No, I am not ill, but—I—have had—a great shock—so that I can not bring myself to go on with the search for Miss Fane. You must employ some one else.”
“But who can succeed where you have failed, Landon? You, the bravest, cleverest detective in New York!”