"Well, Mr. Temple," he said, "I heard you had arrived last night, so I rode over early this morning to ask if May is with you?" He had fixed to say this during his ride to the Hall, and he blurted it out in the forced way that prepared speeches are often made. "Unhappily she is not," answered John Temple, in a low voice, and with downcast eyes. "Not with you! That's odd; then where did you leave her?" For a moment Temple did not speak; a quiver passed over his face, and his lips trembled. "Mr. Churchill," he began, and then he paused. "Well, Mr. Temple, what is this mystery about?" now asked Mr. Churchill, sharply. "I know you are married to her, so what is wrong?" "We quarreled and she has left me," said Temple, forcing himself to utter the words. "She left me without a line, or word--I can not tell you where she is." "Can not tell me where she is! Quarreled with you and left you!" repeated Mr. Churchill in the utmost astonishment. "Mr. Temple, I can not believe such an incredible story." "Yet it is most unhappily true, Mr. Churchill. I would give everything I possess in the world to be able to tell you more--to tell you where she is." Temple's voice broke and faltered as he uttered the last words, and Mr. Churchill looked at him in absolute amazement and consternation. "And do you mean to tell me," he said, in a hard, angry voice, "that this girl, who was so fond of you that she left her home for you, has forsaken you after a few months of marriage? I can not, I will not believe it; you are keeping something back." "An incident came to May's ears--an incident of my early life," faltered Temple. "About some woman, I suppose?" interrupted Mr. Churchill. "Unfortunately about a woman, and--and after that we quarreled, and she left me. She did not tell me she was going; she gave me no hint, or I should never have left her alone. But one night when I returned to our hotel I found she was gone, and though I sought her everywhere, though I put it into the hands of the police, no trace of her, no reliable trace at least, has ever been heard of her, and sometimes--I fear the worst." Here Temple broke down; he covered his face with his hand; his agitation was unmistakable. "You mean that my girl has put an end to herself, though you may have given her great cause for quarreling with you and leaving you? Then I don't believe it, sir, I tell you that." And Mr. Churchill struck his hand heavily down on the writing-table as he spoke. "She may have left you, I suppose she has, but she had too much spirit, my May had, to take her life for any such folly." "If I could only hope this." "You may not only hope it, but be sure of it! But this must be investigated at once. I'll move heaven and earth to find my girl; ay, and I'll find her!" "Would to God that you could." "I will; there, I've said it, and I seldom say what I do not do. When and how did she disappear? Who saw her last? Tell me everything."