“I am sure they have a telephone,” said Mollie. “I frequently talk with Clara.”
Nick looked up the number, but he tried in vain for several minutes to get a response. All he could obtain was that of the exchange operator:
“They do not answer.”
“There must be a reason for this,” said Nick, replacing the receiver. “They ought to hear the repeated ringing of a telephone bell, even if they are abed.”
“What’s to be done?” asked Mollie anxiously. “I am trying to be calm, Mr. Carter, but I am frightfully disturbed.”
Nick came to an abrupt determination.
“I will go to Brooklyn and see what can be learned,” he replied. “In the meantime, Mrs. Waldmere, you must go home and wait until you hear from me.”
“When will that be?”
“I will telephone to you as soon as I return from Brooklyn. I then shall go to my residence, from which I will ring you up. Chick will remain here, Mr. Carrington, until your guests have departed. I think there will be nothing more wrong.”
“This is bad enough, Carter, Heaven knows,” was the grave reply.