Duncan gazed incredulously at her, then a worried expression crossed his face. “Do you mean she has not been here at all today?”
“Yes.”
“But she told me when I met her she was coming straight here,” he protested. “She left me, for some unknown reason, at the Portland Drug Store and, I supposed, returned here.”
“At what hour was that?” demanded Madame Yvonett, growing a shade paler.
“About twenty minutes past one.”
“Did she have any clothes with her?”
“No, she only carried a hand-bag. Janet told me before I left the house that her things were still in her room.”
“Did Marjorie seem distraught?” Madame Yvonett moistened her dry lips, a new terror tugging at her heart-strings.
“No, only nervous.” The answer was reassuring, but Duncan’s manner was not, and with a low moan of anguish Madame Yvonett sank unconscious to the ground.
Paul Potter sprang to Duncan’s assistance, and the two men, under Miss Rebekah’s frightened guidance, carried Madame Yvonett to her room. Once there the skilled physician took entire charge, and to Duncan’s immense relief, the Quakeress soon revived under his treatment. Potter followed Duncan as he tiptoed out into the upper hall.