"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.

"Well," cried Mrs. Frayling, her patience exhausted. "Is it from her?"

"Yes," Mr. Frayling replied, "It was handed in at the General Post Office
at--"