She had arrived but the moment before to bid her exalted cousin adieu and wish her bon-voyage, and was now silently gazing in unenvious admiration at the jewels Mrs. De Peyster was transferring to their traveling-cases—­with never a guess that perturbation might exist beneath her kinswoman’s composed exterior.  As a matter of fact, under the trying circumstances which confronted Mrs. De Peyster, any other household would have been in confusion, any lesser woman might have been headed toward hysteria.  But centuries of having had its own will had established the De Peyster habit of believing that things would eventuate according to the De Peyster wish; it was not in the De Peyster blood to give way.  And yet, though self-control might restrain worry from the surface, it could not banish it from the private chambers of her being.

Mrs. De Peyster glanced at the open door of her bedroom—­hesitated—­then called:  “Miss Gardner!”

A trim and pretty girl stepped in.  “Yes, Mrs. De Peyster.”

“Will you please call up Judge Harvey’s office once more, and inquire if there is any news about my son.  And ask when Judge Harvey will be here.”

Miss Gardner crossed to Mrs. De Peyster’s desk and took up the telephone.

“Why, Cousin Caroline, has Jack—­”

“One moment, Olivetta,”—­motioning toward the telephone,—­“until Miss Gardner is through.”

They sat silent until the receiver was hung up.  Mrs. De Peyster strove to keep anxiety from her voice.

“Well, Miss Gardner,—­any trace of my son yet?”

“They have learned nothing whatever.”

“And—­and Judge Harvey?  When will he be here?”

“His office said he was at a meeting of the directors of the New York and New England Railroad, and that he was coming here straight after the meeting.”

“Thank you, Miss Gardner.  You may now go on with the packing.  I’ll have the jewels ready very shortly, and Matilda will be in to help you as soon as she is through arranging with the servants.”

“Why, Cousin Caroline, what is it about Jack?” burst out Olivetta with an excited flutter after Miss Gardner had gone into the bedroom.  “I hadn’t heard anything of it before!  Has—­has anything happened to him?”

Olivetta, an intimate, a relative, and a worshipful inferior, was one of the few persons with whom Mrs. De Peyster could bring herself to unbend and be confidential.  “That is what I do not know.  About a week ago Jack suddenly disappeared—­”

“Disappeared!”

“Oh, he left a note, telling me not to worry.  But not a word has been heard from him since.  Of course, it may only be some wild escapade, but then he knew we were going on shipboard this evening, and he should have been home long before this.”

“How terrible!” cried the sympathetic Olivetta, pushing into place a few of the inconstant hairpins that threatened to bestrew the floor.  “Went a week ago!” And then suddenly:  “Why, that was about the time that first rumor was printed of his engagement to Ethel Quintard.  And again this morning—­in the ’Record’—­did you see it?”