“Oh, uncle, let me stay!” pleaded Blanche.

Sir Patrick hesitated.  It was impossible to say—­as matters stood at that moment—­what distressing intelligence the two men might not have brought of the missing woman.  Duncan’s return, accompanied by the station-master, looked serious.  Blanche instantly penetrated the secret of her uncle’s hesitation.  She turned pale, and caught him by the arm.  “Don’t send me away,” she whispered.  “I can bear any thing but suspense.”

“Out with it!” said Sir Patrick, holding his niece’s hand.  “Is she found or not?”

“She’s gone by the up-train,” said the station-master.  “And we know where.”

Sir Patrick breathed freely; Blanche’s color came back.  In different ways, the relief to both of them was equally great.

“You had my orders to follow her,” said Sir Patrick to Duncan.  “Why have you come back?”

“Your man is not to blame, Sir,” interposed the station-master.  “The lady took the train at Kirkandrew.”

Sir Patrick started and looked at the station-master.  “Ay? ay?  The next station—­the market-town.  Inexcusably stupid of me.  I never thought of that.”

“I took the liberty of telegraphing your description of the lady to Kirkandrew, Sir Patrick, in case of accidents.”

“I stand corrected, Mr. Murdoch.  Your head, in this matter, has been the sharper head of the two.  Well?”

“There’s the answer, Sir.”

Sir Patrick and Blanche read the telegram together.

“Kirkandrew.  Up train. 7.40 P.M.  Lady as described.  No luggage.  Bag in her hand.  Traveling alone.  Ticket—­second-class.  Place—­Edinburgh.”

“Edinburgh!” repeated Blanche.  “Oh, uncle! we shall lose her in a great place like that!”

“We shall find her, my dear; and you shall see how.  Duncan, get me pen, ink, and paper.  Mr. Murdoch, you are going back to the station, I suppose?”

“Yes, Sir Patrick.”

“I will give you a telegram, to be sent at once to Edinburgh.”

He wrote a carefully-worded telegraphic message, and addressed it to The Sheriff of Mid-Lothian.

“The Sheriff is an old friend of mine,” he explained to his niece.  “And he is now in Edinburgh.  Long before the train gets to the terminus he will receive this personal description of Miss Silvester, with my request to have all her movements carefully watched till further notice.  The police are entirely at his disposal; and the best men will be selected for the purpose.  I have asked for an answer by telegraph.  Keep a special messenger ready for it at the station, Mr. Murdoch.  Thank you; good-evening.  Duncan, get your supper, and make yourself comfortable.  Blanche, my dear, go back to the drawing-room, and expect us in to tea immediately.  You will know where your friend is before you go to bed to-night.”

With those comforting words he returned to the gentlemen.  In ten minutes more they all appeared in the drawing-room; and Lady Lundie (firmly persuaded that she had never closed her eyes) was back again in baronial Scotland five hundred years since.