nts to see you at once, sir," he said.
"He says his name's Thompson, and that he's Miss Frances Holladay's
butler."

Our junior half-started from his chair in his excitement; then he
controlled himself, and sank back into it again.

"Show him in," he said, and sat with his eyes on the door, haggard in
appearance, pitiful in his eagerness. Not until that moment had I
noticed how the past week had aged him and worn him down--his work, of
course, might account for part of it, but not for all. He seemed
almost ill.

The door opened in a moment, and a gray-haired man of about sixty
entered. He was fairly gasping for breath, and plainly laboring under
strong emotion.

"Well, Thompson," demanded Mr. Royce, "what's the trouble now?"

"Trouble enough, sir!" cried the other. "My mistress has been made
away with, sir! She left town just ten days ago for Belair, where we
were all waiting for her, and nobody has set eyes on her since, sir!"

CHAPTER X

An Astonishing Disappearance

Mr. Royce grasped the arms of his chair convulsively, and remained for
a moment speechless under the shock. Then he swung around toward me.

"Come here, Lester," he said hoarsely. "I needed you once before, and
I need you now. This touches me so closely I can't think
consecutively. You _will_ help, won't you?"

There was an appeal in his face which showed his sudden weakness--an
appeal there was no resisting, even had I not, myself, been deeply
interested in the case.

"Gladly," I answered, from the depths of my heart, seeing how
overwrought he was. "I'll help to the very limit of my power, Mr.
Royce."

He sank back into his chair again, and breathed a long sigh.

"I knew you would," he said. "Get the story from Thompson, will you?"

I brought a chair, and sat down by the old butler.

"You have been in Mr. Holladay's family a great many years, haven't
you, Mr. Thompson?" I asked, to give him opportunity to compose
himself.

"Yes, a great many years, sir--nearly forty, I should say."

"Before Miss Holladay's birth, then?"

"Oh, yes, sir; long before. Just before his marriage, Mr. Holladay
bought the Fifth Avenue house he lived in ever since, and I was
employed, then, sir, as an under-servant."

"Mr. Holladay and his wife were very happy together, weren't they?" I
questioned.

"Very happy; yes, sir. They were just like lovers, sir, until her
death. They seemed just made for each other, sir," and the trite old
saying gathe