“Charles,” he exclaimed, seizing his friend’s hand when they were alone in the hall, “will you lend me your aid in this trouble? Something is wrong,” he went on speaking, in tones of anxiety; “she was expecting me to come to her, and I know she would never have gone away of her own accord.”
“I am constrained to take that view of it now, after what you have told me; although I must confess, before you came, I was inclined to believe the very worst of her. I hope,” he added, with some uneasiness, “that you have not been deceived in Miss Douglas.”
Adrian’s lips curled again.
He knew what he had reference to. Sir Charles believed that something must be wrong or Mrs. Coolidge would not have spoken as she had done.
“The future will disclose whether I have or not,” he replied, coldly.
“You may depend upon me, Adrian, to do all in my power to unravel this mystery. Miss Douglas certainly appeared like a very lovely person, and until to-night I admired her very much, although I have rarely met her. Believe me, you have my sympathy,” and he meant it in more senses than one.
“Thank you, but I am wild in trying to think what has become of the poor child. I am almost tempted to believe——”
He checked himself suddenly.
He was upon the point of saying he feared treachery on the part of the Coolidges; but, remembering that it would not do to speak of them thus in Sir Charles’ presence, he stopped.
“What?” Sir Charles demanded, with a curious look.