“Is Channing Lloyd here?” I asked excitedly.

“No.  He was here to luncheon and went out with Marcia, but he didn’t come back—­to the house, I mean.”

“But you know that he has been seen—­since?”

I asked the question in terror and trembling.

“Oh, yes,” she said.  “One of the gardeners saw him and—­”

“And Marcia?” I questioned again.

She pointed upward, where we were conscious again of the steadily moving footsteps.

“She’s upstairs in her room.”

I think the gasps of relief that came from each of us at this welcome news must have given Miss Gore the true measure of our anxiety, for a thin smile broke on her lips.

“Thank God,” I said feelingly.  “Then they’re safe.  What has happened, Miss Gore?  Can you tell me?  Jerry has gone, fled from Horsham Manor.  We feared—­the worst.”

“I don’t know what has happened, Mr. Canby,” she admitted.  “But it’s very strange.  I will tell you what I know.  Marcia and Mr. Lloyd went out together after luncheon, not in a motor but afoot.  I was in the garden in the afternoon cutting roses for the dinner table when I saw a figure skulking near the hedge which leads to the main drive.  I wasn’t frightened at all, for Dominick, the man who attends to the rose garden, was nearby, but the man’s actions were queer and I sent the gardener to inquire.  He went and I followed, curiously.  Dominick cut across behind the hedges and came out on the lawn quite near the man, who walked with his body slightly inclined and one arm upraised and bent across his face, his hand holding a red handkerchief.  I could make out his figure now.  I remembered the suit of shepherd’s plaid that Channing Lloyd had been wearing.  There is no doubt of his identity, for Dominick confirmed me.  It was Mr. Lloyd.”

“But what was he bending over for?” I asked.

“I can’t imagine.  When Dominick spoke to him, he merely cursed the man and went on.”

“Curious,” said Jack thoughtfully.

“Isn’t it?  I can’t make it out at all.”

“And Marcia?” I asked.

“She came back much later.  I didn’t see her for she rushed into her room and locked the door.  She’s there now.  I’ve tried to get to her.  But she won’t let me in, won’t even answer me.  Listen,” and she pointed upward.  “She’s been doing that for hours.  I’ve taken her food.  She won’t eat or reply.  Nothing except, ‘Go,’ or ‘Go away.’  I’m at my wit’s ends.  I seem to be sure, Mr. Canby, that Jerry—­”

“Yes,” I put in.  “You’re right, Jerry—­was here.  Something has happened.”

“But what?” she asked.

“He saw them together in the red motor.”

“Kissing,” put in Jack rather brutally.

“Ah,” she said composedly.  And then, “Ah, yes, I see, but why Lloyd’s curious behavior and Jerry’s flight?”

“It’s very mysterious.”

“Yes, very.”  Here she rose as with a sudden sense of responsibility and brought the interview to an end.  I think she read farther than I did.  “At all events we know that they are all alive,” she said with a smile.  “Perhaps no great damage is done after all.”