When Ebenezer appeared at Madelene's home he was fuming with fury. His sister greeted him cordially and ushered him into the drawing room.
"I'm glad you've come, Ebenezer. Helen's been crying ever since she's been here."
"I'll make her cry more before I'm done with her," gritted Waldstricker.
"But, Ebenezer, she's sick. And you were so cruel to send her away like that."
Waldstricker turned savagely upon the speaker, hands working convulsively and face and eyes ugly from fear and anger.
"Never mind about that now--Where's Elsie?" he demanded. "I want her and I want her right away."
Madelene fell back a step, wax-white.
"Elsie!" she echoed. "Isn't she home?"
"Madelene," Ebenezer began in a deadening voice, "you know me well enough not to play with me like this. Where's my daughter?"
Madelene's hands came together.
"She's not here!... She's home, Ebbie, dear, she must be!"
"She's not!" fell from Waldstricker. "Call Helen!"
"Helen can't come down, Ebbie, she's in bed!"
"I'll see her." Low thunder rolled in his tones. His sister grasped his arm.
"Be kind to her, Ebbie, dear--"
"I'll see her," repeated Ebenezer, not changing the tone of his voice.
Without another word, Madelene whirled and went toward the stairs, the church elder following his sister with slow tread.
Helen turned her tired, white face to the visitors. At the sight of her husband she sat up straight.
"Where's Elsie?" the man shouted harshly from the door.
Something had happened to her little girl! Her husband was asking for the child! Mrs. Waldstricker jumped out of bed quickly.
"I haven't seen her," she answered. "Isn't she home?"
Then Waldstricker believed. Elsie had disappeared. She was not with her mother!
"She's gone," was all he said, and, wheeling, went out.
* * * * *
Not one of the servants could tell Madelene or the distracted mother any more than they had told the father.
The search began without the slightest clue of the child's whereabouts. Elsie had disappeared, as if she had been snatched into the sky. The storm, already very severe, had thickened the early twilight into dense darkness. The light snow that had fallen earlier in the day to the depth of several inches drove in swirling clouds before the wind and piled in deep drifts, while the congealed air pelted icy particles of frozen moisture into the confused uproar upon forest and field. Fear that the child had started out to find her mother and had been overtaken by the blizzard obsessed Waldstricker. He sent messengers in all directions, and himself rode furiously through the snow inquiring everywhere. Finding no trace of her at the neighboring houses, he instituted a systematic search of the locality.