“I don’t see how I can sleep, Mr. Jamieson.  Isn’t there something I can do, please?  That would make me feel ever so much better, I’m sure.”

“I know, I know!  But there isn’t a thing you can do to-night.  There’s precious little I can do, for that matter, myself.  You get some rest, so that you’ll be fresh and strong in the morning.  No telling what may turn up then; and we may need you to do a whole lot.  Got to keep yourself in condition, you know.  Remember that, always.  That’s the way to help.  Good-night!  I’m going to hurry out now and see what I can find out about that car.”

So Bessie went back to her room, and, knowing that the lawyer had given her good advice when he had urged her to rest, she tried hard to go to sleep again.  But trying to sleep and actually doing it are very different, and Bessie tossed restlessly for the remainder of the night.  The sun, shining through her window in the early morning, was the most welcome of all possible sights, and she got up and dressed, glad that the night of inactivity was over, and that the time for action, if action there was to be, was at hand.

Eleanor was shocked and frightened when she heard what had happened.

“I’m sorry you didn’t wake me, Bessie,” she said.  “It must have been dreadful for you, waiting for morning all alone up there.  We could have talked, anyhow, and sometimes that helps a good deal.”

“Well, I didn’t see any use in spoiling the night for you and I’d have stayed awake anyhow, I think, even if I hadn’t been alone.  So there was no use keeping you up and awake, too.”

“I’ll telephone at once and see if anything has been found out, Bessie.  Then we’ll know better what to do.  But I’m afraid there’s not much that we can do—­not just now.”

Jamieson was not in his office, or at his home, when Eleanor telephoned.  But when she stopped to think she realized that he was almost certain to be busy in his search for some clue to the missing girl.

“Come with me.  Let’s go down town,” she said to Bessie.  “I want to get some things for you, anyhow, and anything is better than sitting around the house here, just waiting for news.  That’s terrible.  Don’t you think so?”

“Yes, indeed.  But suppose some news came when we were out?”

“Oh, we can easily telephone to the house and then, if there should be a message, we can get it right away, you see.  I’ll tell them here to write down any message that comes, and we’ll telephone every fifteen minutes or so.”

“Shall we see Mr. Jamieson while we’re down town?”

“Yes, we will.  That’s a good idea.  It will save his time, too, and there may be something he wants us to do.”

So they started.  Eleanor wanted to walk.  But before they had gone very far a big automobile drew up along the sidewalk, and a cheery, pleasant man, middle aged, with a smiling face, and white hair, though he seemed too young for that, hailed them.