Gerridge was the detective. "Relate the circumstances, sir. Tell us where
you were when you first missed her."

Mr. Ransom's glance wandered past him to the door. It was partly open.
The manager, whose name was Loomis, hastily closed it. Mr. Ransom showed
relief and hurried into his story. It was to this effect:

"I was married to-day in Grace Church. At the altar my bride--you
probably know her name, Miss Georgian Hazen--wore a natural look, and was
in all respects, so far as any one could see, a happy woman, satisfied
with her choice and pleased with the éclat and elegancies of the
occasion. Half-way down the aisle this all changed. I remember the
instant perfectly. Her hand was on my arm and I felt it suddenly stiffen.
I was not alarmed, but I gave her a quick look and saw that something had
happened. What, I could not at the moment determine. She didn't answer
when I spoke to her and seemed to be mainly concerned in getting out of
the church before her emotions overcame her. This she succeeded in doing
with my help; and, once in the vestibule, recovered herself so
completely, and met all my inquiries with such a gay shrug of the
shoulders, that I should have passed the matter over as a mere attack of
nerves, if I had not afterwards detected in her face, through all the
hurry and excitement of the ensuing reception, a strained expression not
at all natural to her. This was still more evident after the
congratulations of a certain guest, who, I am sure, whispered to her
before he passed on; and when the time came for her to go up-stairs she
was so pale and unlike herself that I became seriously alarmed and asked
if she felt well enough to start upon the journey we had meditated.
Instantly her manner changed. She turned upon me with a look I have been
trying ever since to explain to myself, and begged me not to take her out
of town to-night but to some quiet hotel where we might rest for a few