Duncan searched in the drawing-room, the music-room, the dining-room; he explored the snuggery, the library, and even Jack's own particular den; he sought the side piazzas; he went outside among the trees to certain hidden nooks he knew. But Patricia was nowhere to be discovered. Neither had he been able to see Sally anywhere about, and the conviction became stronger upon him that the two were somewhere together, and that Patricia, her pride forgotten, was keeping the young hostess with her while she told of the terrible predicament in which she now found herself to be enmeshed; for it would be a most stupendous predicament for Patricia to face--the realization that she was in love with Morton, in spite of the contract in writing she had forced Roderick Duncan to sign with her.
Returning to the house, he found the butler, and was about to send him in search of his mistress, when he discovered Sally, descending the stairway.
"Where is Patricia?" Each asked the question simultaneously, so that the words were pronounced exactly together; and yet neither one smiled. Each question was a reply to its mate.
"I have been searching everywhere for her," said Duncan.
"So have I," replied Sally. "Where can she be?"
"I haven't an idea. Isn't she up-stairs?"
"No. Couldn't you find her, outside?"
"No."
"I haven't seen her since--since that dreadful scene on the veranda," said Sally. "Have you seen her, Roderick?"
"Yes."
"When? Where?"
"I saw her taking leave of Morton, when he went away," he replied, with such bitterness that Sally stared at him; but, wisely, she made no comment; nor did she attempt to stay him when he turned abruptly away from her, and walked rapidly toward one of the side entrances. But he stopped and turned, before he left the room.
"Sally," he said, "I am going to ask you to excuse me. I want to get away. I would rather not explain to the others--I would rather not attempt to explain to you. But I want to go. You will excuse me? and if those who remain should happen to miss me, will you make whatever excuse seems necessary?"
"None will be necessary, Roderick. Oh, you men! You make me tired! You do, really! It is inconceivable why you should all fall hopelessly in love with one woman, and utterly ignore the others who are--" She stopped suddenly. She had been on the point of saying too much, and she did not wish to utter words she would be sorry for, afterward. Duncan did not attempt any reply, and was turning away a second time, when she called after him: "If you would only be really sensible, and--"