III
THE RED DRESS
"Another morning; and nothing! Three days gone and no word, no sign from her; or any mark of weakening!"
The powerful man at the window clenched his hands. Then he swung about to face his confidential secretary and stared at her uncertainly. It was the tenth time that morning, and the fiftieth time in the three days just gone, that Walter Eldredge, the young president of the great Chicago drygoods house of Eldredge and Company, had paused, incapable of continuing business.
"Never mind that letter, Miss Webster," he commanded. "But tell me again—are you sure that no one has come to see me, and there has been no message, about my wife—I mean about Edward—about Edward?"
"No; no one, I am sure, Mr. Eldredge!"
"Send Mr. Murray to me!" he said.
"Raymond, something more effective must be done!" he cried, as his brother-in-law appeared in the doorway. "It is impossible for matters to remain longer in this condition!" His face grew gray. "I am going to put it into the hands of the police!"
"The police!" cried Murray. "After the way the papers treated you and Isabel when you married?
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