Alexandrine started forward at Margie's exclamation. Her cheek was white
as marble, her breath came quick and struggling.

"Margie! Margie Harrison!" she cried, "what do you mean?"

"Nothing," answered Margie, recovering herself, and relapsing into her
usual self-composure.

They searched all that night, and found nothing. Absolutely nothing. With
the early train, both Mr. Trevlyn and Mr. Weldon went to the city. They
hurried to Mr. Linmere's room, only to have their worst fears confirmed.
Pietro informed them that his master had left there on the six o'clock
train; he had seen him to the depot, and into the car, receiving some
orders from him relative to his rooms, after he had taken his seat.

There could be no longer any doubt but that there had been foul play
somewhere. The proper authorities were notified, and the search began
afresh. Harrison Park and its environs were thoroughly ransacked; the
river was searched, the pond at the foot of the garden drained, but
nothing was discovered. There was no clue by which the fate of the
missing man could be guessed at, ever so vaguely.

Every person about the place was examined and cross-examined, but no one
knew anything, and the night shut down, and left the matter in mystery.
Pietro, at length, suggested Leo, Mr. Linmere's gray-hound.

"Him no love his master," said the Italian, "but him scent keen. It will
do no hurt to try him."