"And can you do no more to-day?" asked poor Lambert, his mouth twitching from the nervous strain of suppressing his cruel anxiety.
"I consider that we have secured a clue. I feel sure of finding your daughter; if not immediately, at no distant date."
"At no distant date," repeated the father, as the chef de la sûreté left the house followed by the commissaire. "But in the meantime!—Oh God, Glynn, how can I live on such a rack, and I don't know where to turn!"
"It is almost unbearable. Can you remember nothing that might serve as a clue to her extraordinary disappearance?"
"Nothing. If I don't find her, I have done with life."
"I feel for you, Lambert, from the bottom of my soul. I'd give all I possess to know that Elsie is safe! you'll have an awful night of it. Shall I stay with you?"
"I am best alone," returned Lambert, looking sharply at him. "I didn't think you cared so much. Thank ye—I am best alone."
[CHAPTER VI.]
PURSUIT.
Glynn had known some rough times in his life, but a stupendous calamity such as had now overtaken him can only happen once in an existence. Little more than twelve hours before he had thrilled at Elsie's touch, and dreamed of winning her love! Why had he not accompanied her to her house, and seen her safely within her father's door? What was the dim haze of mystery which had hung about her, and had now suddenly deepened into darkness so profound that it defied conjecture? And suppose she were discovered, might not the discovery be nearly as terrible as the loss? In spite of M. Claude's profound conviction that Miss Lambert had gone willingly, Glynn could not, would not believe that there was a shadow of duplicity in the soul that looked so candidly, so earnestly out of those glorious deep-blue eyes. No; but she might have been decoyed away by some plausible story; if so, she was not wanting in courage and resolution; she would probably manage to communicate with Lambert. But in the meantime what agonies of terror, what unspeakable distress she must endure.