Night dropped down, shutting in with a strange suddenness, as some
heavier clouds darkened the west. Up to this period not a single
item of intelligence from the absent one had been gained since, as
related by one of the young Gordons, he parted from him between two
and three o'clock in the morning, and saw him take his way down one
of the streets, not far from his home, leading to the river. It was
snowing fast at the time, and the ground was already well covered.
Closer questioning of the young man revealed the fact that Albert
Martindale was, at the time, so much intoxicated that he could not
walk steadily.

"I looked after him," said Gordon, "as he left me, and saw him
stagger from side to side; but in a few moments the snow and
darkness hid him from sight. He was not far from home, and would, I
had no doubt, find his way there."

Nothing beyond this was ascertained on the first day of his absence.
I went home soon after dark, leaving Mrs. Martindale with other
friends. The anguish I was suffering no words can tell. Not such
anguish as pierced the mother's heart; but, in one degree sharper,
in that guilt and responsibility were on my conscience.

Three days went by. He had vanished and left no sign! The whole
police of the city sought for him, but in vain. Their theory was
that he had missed his home, and wandered on towards the docks,
where he had been robbed and murdered and his body cast into the
river. He had on his person a valuable gold watch, and a diamond pin
worth over two hundred dollars--sufficient temptation for robbery
and murder if his unsteady feet had chanced to bear him into that