“Both, I fear, sir, are seized,” replied the housekeeper, sadly; “I have sent for Doctor Mills and Doctor Hayward, and two additional nurses from the hospital; but as yet, no one has come. And oh, sir! something else has happened: Lucy Williams has disappeared in some mysterious manner; not a soul has seen her since last night. It seems, indeed,” added the old lady, clasping her hands, while the tears rained from her eyes, “as though a curse had fallen upon the house. Where will it all end! Heaven knows: I tremble to think who may be taken next.” This was startling news indeed, although, perhaps, nothing more than might have been expected from the state of affairs at the High Elms. Mr. and Mrs. Warden’s health had been considerably shaken by the days and nights of suspense they had passed through. Consequently it would not be a matter of surprise if they were the next to fall victims to the disease. Then again with regard to Lucy Williams, were they not watching the girl, and waiting for her to make a move in some direction? However, there was no time to be lost in speculation, there was work to be done. Lord Hardcastle wrote a brief note to Varley— “Leave off your searching and dragging at once; there is something else for you to do. Lucy Williams has disappeared. Come over immediately. I will have all necessary information collected, and ready to place in your hands by the time you arrive. This, if you will, you can convey to Inspector Hill, Scotland Yard. It may save time. Start, if possible, by the 2.10 p.m. train. “HARDCASTLE.” This note he despatched by one of the grooms, mounting the man on his own horse, a high-bred roan, which knew how to go like the wind when need was. Unfortunately there was some uncertainty as to where Varley was to be found. The rectory in those days saw but little of him, and his work had lately taken him to a woodland some four or five miles distant. Hither the man, by Lord Hardcastle’s direction, rode in quest, only, unfortunately, to see the volunteers returning by different routes, after another fruitless search. On enquiry, he found that Varley had ridden still farther on to the nearest post-town, most likely on some false scent. Hither again the man followed him, and, fortunately, met him slowly riding towards home, thinking, perhaps, of another day of useless search ended, and where it would be best to recommence on the morrow. He read Hardcastle’s note, and then looked at his watch. The hands pointed at two o’clock.