There was no record of her name at any ticket office; no
state-room had been reserved by, or for her; in fact, telegrams to
officials in Chicago and other points west failed to elicit satisfactory
information of any kind.
Miss Van Rolsen found herself with something real to worry about; she
rose to the occasion; her niece, after all, was everything to her. The
Van Rolsen millions were ultimately for her, and the old lady's every
ambition was centered in the girl. She had been proud of her beauty, her
social triumphs.
With great determination she set herself to solve the puzzling problem.
Could people thus completely disappear nowadays? It seemed impossible,
she asserted, sitting behind closed doors in her library, to the private
agent of the secret-service bureau whom she had just "called in."
He begged to differ from her and pointed to a number of cases which had
seemed just as strange and mysterious in the beginning. Ransom--the
"Black Hand"--Who could say what secret influences had been at work in
this case? It was a very important one; Miss Dalrymple had money of her
own; she was known to be her aunt's heiress.
Pages:
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93