an my own."

Every one knew Mr. Ransom to be a millionaire.

"Left her by her father?"

"No, by some great-uncle, I believe, who made his fortune in the
Klondike."

"And entirely under her own control?"

"Entirely so."

"Who is her man of business?"

"Edward Harper, of--Wall Street."

"He's your man. He'll know sooner or later where she is."

"Yes, but later won't do. I must know to-night; or, if that is
impossible, to-morrow. Were it not for the mortification it would cause
her I should beg you to put on all your force and ransack the city for
this bride of five hours. But such publicity is too shocking. I should
like to give her a day to reconsider her treatment of me. She cannot mean
to leave me for good. She has too much self-respect; to say nothing of
her very positive and not to be questioned affection for myself."

The detective looked thoughtful. The problem had its difficulties.

"Are those hers?" he asked at last, pointing to the two trunks he saw
standing against the wall.

"Yes. I had them brought up, in the hope that she had slipped away on
some foolish errand or other and would yet come back."

"By their heft I judge them to be full; how about her hand-bag?"

"She had only a small bag and an umbrella. They are both here."

"How's that?"

"The colored boy took them at the door. She went away with nothing in her
hands."

Gerridge glanced at the bag Mr. Ransom had pointed out, fingered it, then
asked the young husband to open it.

He did so. The usual articles and indispensable adjuncts of a nice
woman's toilet met their eyes. Also a pocketbook containing considerable
money and a case holding more than one valuable jewel.

The eyes of the officer and manager met in ill disguised alarm.

"She must have been under the most violent excitement to slip away
without these," suggested the former. "I'd better be at work. Give me two
hours," were his parting words to Mr. Ransom. "By that time I'll either
be back or telephone you. You had better stay here; she may return.
Though I don't think that likely," he muttered as he passed the manager.

At the door he stopped. "You can't tell me the color of that veil?"

"No."

"Look about the room, sir. There's lots of colors in the furniture and
hangings. Don't you see one somewhere that reminds you of her veil or
even of her dress?"

The miserable bridegroom looked up from the bag into which he was still
staring and, glancing slowly around him,