Anne gave a start and stared at him. "Miss Sylvia?" she said. "That’s her," said Jim, warming his coat tails at the radiator. I could see Anne was awful surprised and was trying to hide it. "Who was she with?" she asked. "No one. She went up alone and said she was going to be away for a few days. Where’s she going?" Anne gave me a look that said, "Keep your mouth shut," and turned quiet and innocent to Jim. "Just for a visit to friends. She’s always visiting people in New York and Philadelphia." Jim stayed round a while gabbing with us, and then went back to the station. When the door shut on him we stared at each other with our eyes as round as marbles. "Oh, Molly," Anne said, almost in a whisper, "it’s just what I’ve been afraid of." "You think she’s lighting out?" "Yes—don’t you see, the Doctor being at the Dalzells’ has given her the chance." "Where would she go to?" "How do I know? Heaven send she hasn’t done anything foolish. But this morning she sent Virginie, that French woman, up to the village for something—on Sunday when all the shops are shut. The housemaid told me they’d been trying to find out what it was and Virginie wouldn’t tell. Oh, dear, _could_ she have gone off with someone?" We were talking it over in low voices when a call came. It was from Mapleshade to the Dalzells’. As I made the connection I whispered to Anne what it was and she whispered back, "Listen." I did. It was from Mrs. Fowler, all breathless and almost crying. She asked for the Doctor and when he came burst out: "Oh, Dan, something’s happened—something dreadful. Sylvia’s run away." I could hear the Doctor’s voice, small and distant but quite clear: "Go slow now, Connie, it’s hard to hear you. Did you say _Sylvia’d run away_?" Then Mrs. Fowler said, trying to speak slower: "Yes, with Jack Reddy. We’ve been hunting for her and we’ve just found a letter from him in her desk. Do you hear—her desk, in the top drawer? It told her to meet him at seven in the Lane and go with him in his car to Bloomington." "Bloomington? That’s a hundred and fifty miles off." "I can’t help how far off it is. That’s where the letter said he was going to take her. It said they’d go by the turnpike to Bloomington and be married there. And we can’t find Virginie—they’ve evidently taken her with them." "I see—by the turnpike, did you say?" "Yes. Can’t you go up there and meet them and bring her back?" "Yes—keep cool now, I’ll head them off. What time did you say they left?" "The letter said he’d meet her in the Lane at seven and it’s a little after eight now. Have you time to get up there and catch them?" "Time?—to burn. On a night like this Reddy can’t get round to the part of the pike where I’ll strike it under three and a half to four hours." "But can you go—can you leave your case?"