“Why should she want to disappear?” The question was asked coolly and with as much interest as a stranger would be likely to show.

“I cannot imagine,” said the old man speculatively.  “She apparently had health and happiness, if one may judge from her appearance, and she came to me of her own free will on a matter of business.  Immediately after her disappearance, two well-dressed men entered my office and inquired for her.  One had an intellectual head, but looked hard and cruel; the other was very handsome—­and disagreeable.  When he could not find the young lady, he laid claim to her hat, but I had it locked away.  How could I know that man was her friend or her relative?  I intend to keep that hat until the young woman herself claims it.  I have not had anything happen that has so upset me in years.”

“You don’t think any harm has come to her?” questioned the girl.

“I cannot think what harm could, and yet—­it is very strange.  She was about the age of my dear daughter when she died, and I cannot get her out of my mind.  When you first appeared in the doorway you gave me quite a start.  I thought you were she.  If I can find any trace of her, I mean to investigate this matter.  I have a feeling that that girl needs a friend.”

“I am sure she would be very happy to have a friend like you,” said the girl, and there was something in the eyes that were raised to his that made the Judge’s heart glow with admiration.

“Thank you,” said he warmly.  “That is most kind of you.  But perhaps she has found a better friend by this time.  I hope so.”

“Or one as kind,” she suggested in a low voice.

The conversation then became general, and the girl did not look up for several seconds; but the young man on her right, who had not missed a word of the previous tete-a-tete, could not give attention to the story Mrs. Blackwell was telling, for pondering what he had heard.

The ladies now left the table, and though this was the time that Dunham had counted upon for an acquaintance with the great judge who might hold a future career in his power, he could not but wish that he might follow them to the other room.  He felt entire confidence in his new friend’s ability to play her part to the end, but he wanted to watch her, to study her and understand her, if perchance he might solve the mystery that was ever growing more intense about her.

As she left the room, his eyes followed her.  His hostess, in passing behind his chair, had whispered: 

“I don’t wonder you feel so about her.  She is lovely.  But please don’t begrudge her to us for a few minutes.  I promise you that you shall have your innings afterwards.”

Then, without any warning and utterly against his will, this young man of much experience and self-control blushed furiously, and was glad enough when the door closed behind Mrs. Bowman.

Miss Remington walked into the drawing-room with a steady step, but with a rapidly beating heart.  Her real ordeal had now come.  She cast about in her mind for subjects of conversation which should forestall unsafe topics, and intuitively sought the protection of the Judge’s wife.  But immediately she saw her hostess making straight for the little Chippendale chair beside her.