“She’s been run over and killed, I know she has,” wailed Geraldine. “She was run over once before, when she was a little girl, but she got well that time. Now it’s different. Oh, Gretel, Gretel, it’s too dreadful!” And poor Geraldine broke down completely, and sobbed on Molly’s shoulder.
Mrs. Cranston left her sister and her son and put a protecting arm round the trembling girl.
“Don’t, dear,” she said, soothingly. “Things may not be as bad as you think; Gretel may soon be found. We must all try to have a little patience. Mr. Douaine and Mr. Chester are doing all they can.”
“Does any one know what happened?” Jimmy Fairfax asked Stephen, in a low voice.
“Nothing beyond the fact that Gretel went out alone early in the afternoon, and has not come home since. She left no message beyond telling the caretaker that she was going out for a little while. Mr. Douaine reached home a little before seven, and when he found his sister had not come in, he telephoned to every place where he thought it possible she could have gone. He finally succeeded in getting my uncle, who told him he had left Gretel at home about noon. They thought it possible she might have mentioned to some one here how she intended spending the afternoon, but it seems the only thing she spoke of doing was calling at the Barlows’, and she never turned up there.”
Jimmy looked very grave.
“Is there anything we can do?” he asked.
Stephen shook his head.
“Uncle Paul has promised to call us up again in an hour,” he said, “to let us know if anything has been discovered. I shall stay here till then. You can take the car back to the station, if you like. I don’t mind walking.”
“I think I will wait, too,” said Jimmy, quietly.