I had said to Mrs. Lawrence that the cause of her daughter's disappearance--the mystery underlying it--did not concern me; yet that was by far the most interesting feature of the case. To trace the girl must prove an easy task--indeed, I fancied it already as good as accomplished. But to probe the secret--ah, that would not prove so easy! There was no reason why I should attempt it, and yet I could not keep my mind from dwelling on it with a sort of fascination. For I knew it was no ordinary secret--it was something dark and terrifying--something beside which a woman's happiness and reputation had seemed a little thing. Before I could hope to make any further progress in that direction, I realised that I needed to know more of the family--of its history and social standing. Besides, I must be armed cap-à-pie before I went to that interview which I had determined to seek, in the morning, with Marcia Lawrence. "Beg pardon, sir," said a voice at my elbow, and looking up, I saw the hotel clerk standing there. "This is Mr. Lester, isn't it?" "Yes," I answered. "I have a package here for you," he went on, and handed me a square envelope. "It was left here for you this afternoon." "Oh, yes," I said; "thank you," and I slipped the envelope into my pocket. "You've had rather an exciting time here to-day," I added. "You mean the wedding that didn't come off?" he asked, smiling. "It _has_ torn the town wide open, and no mistake." "So I judged from the papers. The Lawrences are pretty prominent, aren't they?" "Yes; top-notchers; especially in church circles. I'll bet Dr. Schuyler is all broken up." "Dr. Schuyler?" "Pastor of their church--First Presbyterian--that big church just down the street yonder. They've been great pets of his." "He was to have performed the ceremony?" "Sure. They wouldn't have had anybody else. Nice old fellow, too. Besides, he's been their pastor for years." Here was the source I had been looking for--the source from which I might draw detailed and accurate information, if I could only reach it. "I suppose that house next to the church is the parsonage," I ventured. I had never seen the church, but it seemed a safe shot. "Yes; the one this side of it." I nodded. "I thought so. Thank you for giving me the package," I added, and glanced at my watch and rose. "Oh, that's all right, sir," he answered, and turned away to his desk. As for me, I lost no time in starting out upon my errand. I would see Dr. Schuyler--I would put the case before him, and ask his help. It was nearly eight o'clock, doubtless well past his dinner hour, and I resolved to seek the interview at once.