Cora went and found it and gave it to him.

Then she put on her bonnet.

Then they went down together, crossed the grounds, and entered the great hall, which was densely crowded.  Good seats had been reserved for them, and they found themselves seated next the Dean of Olivet on Cora’s right and the Wall street broker on Mr. Rockharrt’s left.

I do not mean to trouble my readers with any description of this by-gone exhibition.  They can read a full account of such every season in every morning paper.  Merely to say that it was late in the afternoon when the exercises were over for the day.

Mr. Rockharrt and Cora Rothsay returned to the hotel to a very late dinner.

The first question that the Iron King asked was whether any telegram had come for him.  He was told that there was none.

“It is very strange.  She could not have received mine,” he said, and he went directly to the telegraph office of the hotel and dispatched a long message to the clerk of the Blank House, telling him of how Mrs. Stillwater had been separated from her party by the pressure of the crowd, and how she had thereby missed their train, and inquiring whether she had returned to the hotel, whether she had got his message, and if she were well.  Any news of her, or from her, was anxiously expected by her friends.

Having sent off this dispatch, Mr. Rockharrt went in to dinner.  The dinner was long.  The courses were many.  Mr. Rockharrt and his granddaughter were still at table when the following telegram was placed in his hands: 

    BLANK HOUSE, New York, May, 18—­

    Mrs. Stillwater is not here, and has not been seen by any of our
    people since she left the house with your party for the Hudson
    River Railway depot.  We have made inquiries, but have no news.

    M. MARTIN.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE SEARCH.

“This is intolerable,” muttered old Aaron Rockharrt, in a tone as who should say:  “How dare Fate set herself to baffle ME?”

He then took tablets and pencil from his pocket and wrote the following telegram: 

    COZZENS HOTEL, WEST POINT,
    May ——­, 18—­

    To M. MARTIN, ESQ., Blank House, New York City: 

Just received your dispatch.  There has been foul play.  Report the case at police headquarters.  Set private detective on the track of the missing lady.  Last seen at the gate of the Hudson River Railway depot, waiting for 7:30 a.m. train for West Point yesterday morning, but not seen on train.  Give me prompt notice of any news.

    AARON ROCKHARRT.

He beckoned a waiter and sent the message to be dispatched from the office of the hotel.

Then he set himself to finish his dinner.

After dinner he went out on the piazza.

Cora followed him.  There was quite a number of people out there, seeing whom, he walked out upon the open grounds.