very nervous but was sure that a few minutes of complete rest would entirely restore her; something had occurred (she acknowledged this) which she wanted to think out; wouldn’t I grant her this one opportunity of doing so?  It was a startling request, but she looked so lovely—­pardon me, I must explain my easy acquiescence—­that I gave her the assurance she wished and went about my own preparations, somewhat disconcerted but still not at all prepared for what happened afterward.  I had absolutely no idea that she meant to leave me.”

Mr. Ransom paused, greatly affected; but upon the detective asking him how and when Mrs. Ransom had deserted him, he controlled himself sufficiently to say: 

“Here; immediately after that silent and unnatural ride.  She entered the office with me and was standing close at my side all the time I was writing our names in the register; but later, when I turned to ask her to enter the elevator with me, she was gone, and the boy who was standing by with our two bags said that she had slipped into the reception-room across the hall.  But I didn’t find her there or in any of the adjoining rooms.  Nor has anybody since succeeded in finding her.  She has left the building—­left me, and—­”

“You want her back again?”

This from the detective, but very dryly.

“Yes.  For she was not following her own inclinations in thus abandoning me so soon after the words which made us one were spoken.  Some influence was brought to bear on her which she felt unable to resist.  I have confidence enough in her to believe that.  The rest is mystery—­a mystery which I am forced to ask you to untangle.  I have neither the necessary calmness nor experience myself.”

“But you surely have done something,” protested Gerridge.  “Telephoned to her late home or—­”

“Oh yes, I have done all that, but with no result.  She has not returned to her old home.  Her uncle has just been here and he is as much mystified by the whole occurrence as I am.  He could tell me nothing, absolutely nothing.”

“Indeed! and the man, the one who whispered to her during the reception, couldn’t you learn anything about him?”

Mr. Ransom’s face took on an expression almost ferocious.

“No.  He’s a stranger to Mr. Fulton; yet Mr. Fulton’s niece introduced him to me as a relative.”

“A relative?  When was that?”

“At the reception.  He was introduced as Mr. Hazen (my wife’s maiden name, you know), and when I saw how his presence disturbed her, I said to her, ‘A cousin of yours?’ and she answered with very evident embarrassment, ’A relative’;—­which you must acknowledge didn’t locate him very definitely.  Mr. Fulton doesn’t know of any such relative.  And I don’t believe he is a relative.  He didn’t sit with the rest of the family in the church.”

“Ah! you saw him in the church.”

“Yes.  I noticed him for two reasons.  First, because he occupied an end seat and so came directly under my eye in our passage down the aisle.  Secondly, because his face of all those which confronted me when I looked for the cause of her sudden agitation, was the only one not turned towards her in curiosity or interest.  His eyes were fixed and vacant; his only.  That made him conspicuous and when I saw him again I knew him.”