“Where is he?” she said, and her voice betrayed her agitation, though she strove to control it.
“Where can he be, miss?” exclaimed Oscar. “I never saw the like! He must have jumped out of a window.”
“He couldn’t,” said Henrietta, briefly; “they’re all fastened.”
The two men, unfamiliar with these details, examined the windows.
There were three of them, facing front, on the street. Each was opened at the top for the space of about six inches, and was securely held thus by a patent device that proved to be very firm and strong. The small window of the bathroom opened on a narrow airshaft, but this window was closed and fastened.
Clearly, there was no outlet but the main door into the hall.
Closets and wardrobes were thrown open and examined, Oscar even looked under the bed and behind the heavy window curtains, but there was no sign of Kimball Webb.
“I never saw anything so queer!” exclaimed Henrietta, who had not yet thought of tragedy in connection with her brother’s absence. “I should think he has risen early and gone on some errand,—only how could he have gotten out?”
Hollis merely stared in response to her inquiry.
“He couldn’t, ma’am,” declared Oscar. “Nobody could go out of this room, and leave that door bolted behind him. And it was locked on the inside, too, you know. I turned the key from the other side, with strong pincers.”