the church, and the bridesmaids hurried into the carriages and drove away—but she wasn't there—only Burr waiting for her——"

She stopped with a sudden tremulousness.

"Thank you," I said. "There's one question I must ask, Mrs. Lawrence, before I can go to work intelligently. You will pardon it. Had your daughter ever had any attachment previous to this one?"

I saw Curtiss glance at her quickly. That solution of the problem had occurred to him, then, too!

"Not the shadow of one," answered Mrs. Lawrence instantly, and perhaps it was only my fancy that the accent of sincerity was a trifle forced. "I have been Marcia's companion and confidante all her life, and I am sure that no man ever distinctly interested her until she met Mr. Curtiss."

"But she no doubt interested many men," I suggested.

"Yes, but never with intention."

"That only makes the case more desperate sometimes."

"I don't believe there were any desperate cases. You will remember," she added, "that we lived much abroad, and so had few intimate acquaintances. Besides, Marcia was—well—extremely patriotic. She often said that she would marry only an American—and an American who lived at home and was proud of his country. One doesn't meet many of that kind in Europe."

"No," I agreed. Whatever my doubts might be, it was clearly impossible at present to proceed any further along that line of inquiry.

And what other line lay open? It seemed to me that I had come to an impasse—a closed way—which barred further progress.

I sat silent a moment, pondering the problem. Perhaps Mrs. Lawrence held the key to it, and I turned to look at her. She was seemingly sunk in reverie, and her lips moved from time to time, as though she were repeating to herself some fragmentary words. She seemed more self-possessed in the presence of this catastrophe than one would have expected. Perhaps she knew where her daughter was; perhaps Miss Lawrence had not really fled. There was nothing to show that she had left the house. It seemed impossible that a woman clad as she had been could have fled, in broad day, without attracting some one's notice. But whether she had fled or not, I reflected, the mystery remained the same. Certainly, she had not appeared at the altar to keep her promise to Burr 

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