Even to Lady Greendale, anxious and alarmed as she was, it did not seem long before the steward came down with the news that the boat was just alongside.  This time she was too agitated to go up.  She heard someone come running down the companion, and a moment later, to her astonishment, Frank Mallett himself came in.  He looked pale and excited.

“What is all this, Lady Greendale?” he exclaimed.  “The skipper tells me that a letter came here saying that I had been hurt and taken to Dr. Maddison’s, and that Bertha and her maid went off at once, and have not returned, though it is more than two hours since they went.  I have not been hurt.  I wrote no letter to Bertha, but was at dinner at the club when the skipper came for me.  What is it all about?”

“I don’t know, Frank.  I cannot even think,” Lady Greendale said in an agitated voice.  “What can it all mean and where can Bertha be?” and she burst into tears.

“I don’t know.  I can’t think,” Frank said, slowly.

He stood silent for a minute or two, and then went on.

“I cannot suggest anything.  I will go ashore at once.  The waterman at our landing stage must have noticed if two ladies got out there.  He could hardly have helped doing so, for it would be curious, their coming ashore alone after dark.  Then I will go to the other landing places and ask there.  There are always boys hanging about to earn a few pence by taking care of boats.  I will be back as soon as I can.”

The boat was still alongside, and the men stretched to their oars.  Th a very few minutes they were at the club landing stage.  The waterman here declared that no ladies whatever, unaccompanied by gentlemen, had landed after dark.

“I must have seen them, sir,” he said, “for you see I go down to help out every party that arrives here.  They must have gone to one of the other landing places.”

But at neither of these could he obtain any information.  There were several boys at each of them who had been there for hours, and they were unanimous in declaring that no ladies had landed there after dark at all.  He then walked up and down between the watch house and the club.

He had, when he landed, intended to go to the police office as soon as he had inquired at the landing stages—­the natural impulse of an Englishman who has suffered loss or wrong—­but the more he thought it over the more inexpedient did such a course seem to him.  It was highly improbable—­indeed, it seemed to him impossible—­that they could do more than he had in the matter.  The passage of two ladies through the crowded streets would scarcely have attracted the attention of anyone, and any idea of violence being used was out of the question.  If they had landed, which he now regarded as very improbable, they must have at least gone willingly to the place where they believed they should find him, and unless every house in Cowes was searched from top to bottom there was no chance of finding