When they were alone in the upper hall he explained his purpose to Bobby.
"We must know whether she's actually here. If she isn't, if she hasn't been back for the last twenty-four
hours--don't you see? It was yesterday afternoon you thought you saw a woman at the lake, and last night a
woman cried about the Cedars--"
"That's going pretty far, Hartley."
"It's a chance. A physical one."
A pretty maid opened the door. Her face was troubled. She studied them with frank disappointment.
"I thought--" she began.
"That your mistress was coming back?" Graham flashed.
There was no concealment in the girl's manner. It was certain that Maria was not in the apartment.
"You remember me?" Bobby asked.
"Yes. You have been here. You are a friend of mademoiselle's. You can, perhaps, tell me where she is."
Bobby shook his head. The girl spread her hands. She burst out excitedly:
"What is one to do? I have telephoned the theatre. There was no one there who knew anything at all, except
that mademoiselle had not appeared at the performance last night."
Graham glanced at Bobby.
"When," he asked, "did you see her last?"
"It was before luncheon yesterday."
"Did she leave no instructions? Didn't she say when she would be back?"
The girl nodded.
"That's what worries me, for she said she would be back after the performance last night."
"She left no instructions?" Graham repeated.
"Only that if any one called or telephoned I was to make no appointments. What am I to do? Perhaps I
shouldn't be talking to you. She would never forgive me for an indiscretion."
"For the present I advise you to do nothing," Graham said. "You can safely leave all that to her managers. I
am going to see them now. I will tell them what you have said."
The girl's eyes moistened.
"Thank you, sir. I have been at my wits' end."
Apparently she withheld nothing. She played no part to confuse the dancer's friends