Basket--desired to see her on important business.
"Mr. Basket?" she echoed apprehensively, and made at once for the
parlour, where she found her visitor mopping his brow. Despite the
heat, he was pale. In his left hand he held a letter.
"You will pardon me," he began in a flutter. "Am I addressing Miss
Martha Hymen?"
"You are, sir." Miss Marty clasped her hands in alarm at his
demeanour. "Oh, tell me what has happened!"
"All the way from Plymouth on purpose," answered Mr. Basket.
"Most mysterious occurrence . . . ate a good dinner and retired to
his room apparently in the best of health and spirits. On our return
from the theatre he was gone."
"Gone?"
"Disappeared, vanished! We searched the house. His watch and
pocket-book lay on the bed, together with a certain amount of
loose change. His wig, too . . . you were aware?"
"I have gone so far as to suspect it. But what dreadful news is
this? Disappeared? Leaving no clue?"
"We are in hopes, my wife and I, that this may afford a clue.
A letter, and addressed to you; it lay upon his writing-table.
We did not feel ourselves at liberty to break the seal. I trust--I
sincerely trust--it may put a period to our suspense."
Miss Marty took the letter, glanced at the address and tore the paper
open with trembling hands. She perused the first few sentences with
a puckered, puzzled brow; then of a sudden her eyes grew wide and
round.
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