Stella was not there. The bed was undisturbed, so also was each and every article about the room. Almost unconsciously she bent and picked up a small vial from the floor, and thrusting it into her pocket, rushed wildly into the hall and straight on to the rooms designed for her son's occupancy, and turning the latch without ceremony, stepped breathlessly in, only to find _that_ also vacant and everything in perfect order. Running frantically about the house, for a few moments the bewildered woman forgot all self control and in agonizing tones enlisted every member of her household in a search for the missing ones.
All in vain: Stella and Maurice had disappeared in the blackness of the night, and the impenetrable fog had swallowed up their footsteps and obliterated every trace by which the direction of their flight could be determined.
The sinner stands with tearless eye And looks on virtue's lovely grace:-- Too late, her soul's repentant cry The brand of sin is on her face
At the very hour in the morning when Mrs. Sinclair and her servants were searching every nook and corner of the elegant residence, away over on the Surrey side of the great bridge, in a large brick house, standing far back from the street, two people, a man and a woman, were bending over a delicate form, clad in an evening dress of pure white satin that looked strangely out of place in this scarlet hued Harem of unchastity. The very hangings blushed in rose red symphonies for the sins and impurities of the inmates. The heavy carpet was one unbroken stain of blood red coloring. The daylight peered through the rich window drapings and crimsoned the entire apartment with its guilty glances within. The exterior of the house was dull, dark and uninviting, but within, the glare of crimson, of dull red and deeper garnet, blended in every article of furniture and garnished walls, ceilings and windows in bewildering and feverish arrangement. Even the glasses on the small jasper table by the couch were red with the evil light of their intoxicating contents.
The woman's dress was opened low at the throat and her jet black hair and clear olive skin were in sombre contrast to the clinging, reddish garment.
That the man had carefully disguised both voice and raiment was plainly evident, but that he was no stranger to the house or its extraordinary mistress, was also a self evident fact.