“She’s merely urged me to be patient. That’s all very well, because I feel sure that if Maud were allowed to do so she would write to me.”
“Her father may prevent her. He does not write to me, remember,” said Max.
“I can’t understand Marion; she is so very mysterious over it all. Each time I’ve seen her I’ve tried to get the truth from her, but all in vain,” Rolfe declared. “My own idea is that on the night in question, when they went together to Queen’s Hall, Maud told Marion something—something that is a secret.”
Max pondered. His friend’s explanation tallied exactly with his own theories; but the point still remained whether or not there had been foul play.
“But why doesn’t the Doctor send me word of his own safety?” asked Barclay. “I was with him only a few hours before, smoking and chatting. He surely knew then of his impending flight. It had all been most ingeniously and cleverly arranged.”
“No doubt. When I knew of it I was absolutely staggered,” Rolfe said.
It was curious, thought his friend, that he did not admit visiting the house after the furniture had been removed.
“I thought you left at nine that night to go to Belgrade. Marion told me you had gone,” Max remarked.
“Yes. I had intended to go, but I unfortunately missed my train. The next day the old gentleman sent somebody else, as he wanted me at home to look after affairs up in Glasgow.”
“And how did you first know of Maud’s disappearance?” asked Max, thinking to upset his calm demeanour.