A message came from her father finally. He hoped to be with her in less than an hour now, and as yet no word had come from Carter! Why did he not know she would be anxious? What could have kept him from his usual greeting of her, and on their wedding day! Suddenly, in the midst of Morton’s careful draping of the wedding veil which she was trying in various ways to see just how it should be put on at the last minute, Starr started up from her chair. “I cannot stand this, Mortie. That will do for now. I must telephone Mr. Carter. I can’t understand why he doesn’t call me.” “Oh, but the poor man is that busy!” murmured Morton excusingly as she hurried obediently out of the room. “Now, mind you don’t muss that beautiful veil.” But after a half hour of futile attempt to get into communication with Carter, Starr suddenly appeared in her door calling for her faithful nurse again. “Mortie!” she called excitedly. “Come here quick! I’ve ordered the electric. It’s at the door now. Put on your big cloak and come with me! I’ve got to see Mr. Carter at once and I can’t get him on the ’phone.” “But Miss Starr!” protested Morton. “You’ve no time to go anywhere now, and look at your pretty veil!” “Never mind the veil, Mortie, I’m going. Hurry. I can’t stop to explain. I’ll tell you on the way. We’ll be back before anyone has missed us.” “But your mamma, Miss Starr! She will be very angry with me!” “Mamma must not know. And anyway I must go. Come, if you won’t come with me I’m going alone.” Starr with these words grasped a great cloak of dark green velvet, soft and pliable as a skin of fur, threw it over her white bridal robes, and hurried down the stairs. “Oh, Miss Starr, darlin’,” moaned Morton looking hurriedly around for a cloak with which to follow. “You’ll spoil yer veil sure! Wait till I take it off’n ye.” But Starr had opened the front door and was already getting into the great luxurious car that stood outside. Chapter XXIII Michael, as he went about on his search kept crying over and over again in his heart: “Oh, God! Do something to save her! Do something to save my little Starr!” Over and over the prayer prayed itself without seeming thought or volition on his part, as he went from place to place, faithfully, keenly, step by step, searching out what he needed to know. At last toward six o’clock, his chain of evidence led him to the door of Stuyvesant Carter’s apartments. After some delay the door was opened reluctantly a little way by a servant with an immobile mask of a face who stared at him stupidly, but finally admitted that the three men whose names he mentioned were inside. He also said that Mr. Carter was in, but could not be seen.