Something like a smile disturbed Major Colquhoun's calm countenance for a moment, and then he stood, twisting the ends of his fair moustache slowly with his left hand, and gazing into the fire, which shone reflected in his steely blue eyes, making them glitter like pale sapphires, coldly, while he waited. Mr. Frayling returned with his wife almost immediately. The latter had had her handkerchief in her hand all day, but she put it in her pocket now. Major Colquhoun had to repeat his story. "Did you look for her in the waiting rooms?" Mrs. Frayling asked. "No." "She may be there waiting for you at this very moment." It was a practical suggestion. "But the porter said he saw her get into a hansom," Major Colquhoun objected. "He said he saw a young lady in gray get into a hansom, I understood you to say," Mrs. Frayling corrected him. "A young lady in gray is not necessarily Evadne. There might be a dozen young ladies in gray in such a crowd." "There might, yes," Mr. Frayling agreed. "And the proof that it was not Evadne is that she is not here," her mother proceeded. "If she had been seen getting into a hansom it could only have been to come here." "A hansom might break down on the way," said Major Colquhoun, entertaining the idea for a moment. "That is not impossible," Mr. Frayling decided. "But why should she come here?" Major Colquhoun slowly pursued, looking hard at his parents-in-law. "Had she any objection to marrying me? Was she overpersuaded into it?" "Oh, _no_!" Mrs. Frayling exclaimed emphatically. "How _can_ you suppose such a thing? We should never have _dreamed_ of influencing the dear child in such a matter. If there were ever a case of love at first sight it was one. Why, her first words on awaking this morning, were: 'Oh, mother! I _am_ so happy!' and that doesn't sound like being overpersuaded!" "Then what, in God's name, is the explanation of all this?" Major Colquhoun exclaimed, showing some natural emotion for the first time. "That is it," said Mr. Frayling energetically. "There must be some explanation." "Heaven grant that the dear child has not been entrapped in some way and carried off, and robbed, and murdered, or something _dreadful_," Mrs. Frayling cried, giving way to the strain all at once, and wringing her hands. Then they looked at each other, and the period of speculation was followed by a momentary interregnum of silence, which would in due course be succeeded by a desire to act, to do something, if nothing happened in the meantime. Something did happen, however. The door bell rang violently. They looked up and listened. The hall door was opened. Footsteps approached, paused outside the library, and then the butler entered, and handed Mr. Frayling a telegram on a silver salver. "Is there any answer, sir?" he asked. Mr. Frayling opened it with trembling hands and read it. "No; no answer," he said. The butler looked at them all as if they interested him, and withdrew.