“About ten minutes before, at the juncture of a crossroad half a mile from where I met them,” Mr. Strickland went on. “He then was talking with Pauline Perrot. Both of the Dawson women have seen her here, and both immediately recognized her.” “There evidently was a rendezvous,” said Nick. “I think so,” Mr. Strickland agreed. “Gordon then had a leather suit case, but the women did not know whether it belonged to him or his companion. She was clad in a dark-green traveling costume. When Gordon saw the two women approaching, he hurried away with Miss Perrot, as if anxious to avoid recognition.” “In which direction did they go?” “East, through the crossroad.” “Did you continue your search?” “I did not, Mr. Carter, for I supposed that Arthur had unexpected business to look after, having been sought by his stenographer, as I then inferred, and that he would return during the evening, or telephone to us.” “Have you telephoned to his residence this morning?” “Yes, indeed. He was not at home last night, nor can his parents explain his absence. They supposed he spent the night here.” “Have you telephoned to his Wall Street office?” “I have, of course--about half an hour ago,” said Mr. Strickland. “With what result?” “Only two of the clerks then were there. They could give me no information, but I directed them to call me up at once, if Mr. Gordon came in. I have no hope of that, however, in view of the letter Mina has received.” “It does not, indeed, seem probable,” Nick allowed. “Added to all this,” said Mr. Strickland, “there now are rumors, probably resulting from the gossip of the Dawson women, that Gordon has eloped with Pauline Perrot. If she is not in his office at her customary hour, ten o’clock, I shall begin to fear----” Mr. Strickland was interrupted by the ringing of a telephone on a stand in one corner, and Wilhelmina uttered a cry, and ran to the instrument. “Wait!” Nick exclaimed. “Let me answer it.” The girl obeyed without a remonstrance, if not quite willingly. “Well?” queried Nick over the wire. The response came in quick, agitated tones: “Hello! I want Mr. Gordon, if he is there, or Mr. Strickland. Hurry!” “Mr. Gordon is not here. Who are you?” “Mr. Beckwith, his cashier. Where can I communicate with Mr. Gordon? Do you know? He was not at home last night. I have just called up his residence. I must find him, or----” “One moment, Mr. Beckwith,” Nick interrupted. “This is Nick Carter talking.” “Nick Carter! Good heavens! What has occurred out there?” “Tell me, instead, what is wrong in Gordon’s office, that you are so disturbed.” “Wrong enough!” came the quick reply. “Cash, bonds, and securities, aggregating sixty thousand dollars, are missing from the vault. Unless Mr. Gordon removed them----” “Wait!” Nick commanded a bit sharply. “Is Pauline Perrot there?” “She is not. She has not come in yet.” Nick glanced at a French clock on the mantel.