"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, finally pointed at a chair
upholstered in brown and impulsively said: