Piccadilly Hotel had disappeared in the night, leaving nothing but an
open space to mark where it had stood. As far as was known nothing was
troubling her; in fact there was much before her to make life
particularly well worth living. The youngest boy had come back from
school with an unsatisfactory report, and she was to have sat in
judgement on him the very afternoon of the day she disappeared--if it had
been he who had vanished in a hurry one could have supplied the motive.
Then she was in the middle of a newspaper correspondence with a rural
dean in which she had already proved him guilty of heresy, inconsistency,
and unworthy quibbling, and no ordinary consideration would have induced
her to discontinue the controversy. Of course the matter was put in the
hands of the police, but as far as possible it was kept out of the
papers, and the generally accepted explanation of her withdrawal from her
social circle was that she had gone into a nursing home."

"And what was the immediate effect on the home circle?" asked the
Journalist.

"All the girls bought themselves bicycles; the feminine cycling craze was
still in existence, and Crispina had rigidly vetoed any participation in
it among the members of her household. The youngest boy let himself go
to such an extent during his next term that it had to be his last as far
as that particular establishment was concerned. The elder boys
propounded a theory that their mother might be wandering somewhere
abroad, and searched for her assiduously, chiefly, it must be admitted,
in a class of Montmartre resort where it was extremely improbable that
she would be found."

"And all this while couldn't your uncle get hold of the least clue?"