With great determination she set herself to solve the puzzling problem.  Could people thus completely disappear nowadays?  It seemed impossible, she asserted, sitting behind closed doors in her library, to the private agent of the secret-service bureau whom she had just “called in.”

He begged to differ from her and pointed to a number of cases which had seemed just as strange and mysterious in the beginning.  Ransom—­the “Black Hand”—­Who could say what secret influences had been at work in this case?  It was a very important one; Miss Dalrymple had money of her own; she was known to be her aunt’s heiress.  The conclusion?—­But this was not Morocco, or Turkey, Miss Van Rolsen somewhat vehemently returned.

True; we have had, however, our “civilized” Ransuilis, answered the agent and mentioned a number of names in support of his theory.  No doubt, after an interval, Miss Van Rolsen would have news of her niece—­through those who had perpetrated the outrage; or she might even receive a few written words from the girl herself.  After that it was a question of negotiating, or, while professing to deal with the perpetrators, to ferret them out if one could.  The latter course was dangerous, for those who stoop to this particular crime are usually of a desperate type; he and Miss Van Rolsen could consider that question later.  Meanwhile she must avoid worry as much as possible.  The young girl would, no doubt, be well treated.

Had the speaker looked around at this moment, he might have observed that the heavy curtains, drawn before the door leading into the hall and closed by Miss Van Rolsen, moved suddenly, but neither the agent nor Miss Van Rolsen, engrossed at the far end of the room, noticed.  The drapery wavered a moment; then settled once more into its folds.

The telegram purporting to be from Miss Dalrymple to one of the party on the train, could—­the agent went on—­very easily have been sent by some one else; no doubt, had been.  The miscreants had seized upon a lucky combination of circumstances; for two or three days, while Miss Dalrymple was supposed to be speeding across the continent, they, unsuspected and unmolested, would be afforded every opportunity to convey her to some remote and, for them, safe refuge.  It was a cleverly planned coup, and could not have been conceived and consummated without—­here he spoke slowly—­inside assistance.

The curtain at the doorway again stirred.

“And now, Madam, we come to your servants,” said the police agent.  “I should like to know something about them.”

“My servants, sir, are, for the most part, old and trusted.”

“’For the most part’!” He caught at the phrase.  “We will deal first with those who do not come in that category.”

“There’s a young man recently employed that I have not been at all pleased with.  He leaves to-morrow.”

“Ah!” said the visitor.  “Not the person I met going out of the area way, with the dogs as I came in?”