I did go trying to find him; I've
spent the afternoon doing that."
"A woman would have managed to find out where he was," retorted Edna.
"His landlady's a woman," rejoined Larcher, doggedly, "and she hasn't
managed to find out."
"Has she been trying to?"
"Well--no," stammered Larcher, repenting.
"Yes, she has!" said Edna, with a changed manner. "But what for? Why is
she concerned? There's something behind this, Tom--I can tell by your
looks. Speak out, for heaven's sake! What's wrong?"
A glance at Florence Kenby's pale face did not make Larcher's task easier
or pleasanter.
"I don't think there's anything seriously wrong. Davenport has been away
from home for a day or two without saying anything about it to his
landlady, as he usually does in such cases. That's all."
"And didn't he send you word about breaking the engagement with you?"
persisted Edna.
"No. I suppose it slipped his mind."
"And neither you nor the landlady has any idea where he is?"
"Not when I saw her last--about half an hour ago."
"Well!" ejaculated Edna. "That _is_ a mysterious disappearance!"
The landlady had used the same expression. Such was Larcher's mental
observation in the moment's silence that followed,--a silence broken by
a low cry from Florence Kenby.
"Oh, if anything has happened to him!"
The intensity of feeling in her voice and look was something for which
Larcher had not been prepared. It struck him to the heart, and for a time
he was without speech for a reassuring word.
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