The evening wore on and Mr. Morton did not appear. At nine
o'clock the young footman was dispatched to the station to make
inquiries whether his master had been seen there in the afternoon, or
whether--which Heaven forbid--there had been an accident on the line.
The young man interviewed two or three porters, the bookstall boy, and
ticket clerk; all were agreed that Mr. Morton did not go up to London
during the day; no one had seen him within the precincts of the station.
There certainly had been no accident reported either on the up or down
line.
"But the morning of the 18th came, with its initial postman's knock, but
neither Mr. Morton nor any sign or news from him. Mrs. Morton, who
evidently had spent a sleepless night, for she looked sadly changed and
haggard, sent a wire to the hall porter at the large building in Cannon
Street, where her husband had his office. An hour later she had the
reply: 'Not seen Mr. Morton all day yesterday, not here to-day.' By the
afternoon every one in Brighton knew that a fellow-resident had
mysteriously disappeared from or in the city.
"A couple of days, then another, elapsed, and still no sign of Mr.
Morton. The police were doing their best. The gentleman was so well
known in Brighton--as he had been a resident two years--that it was not
difficult to firmly establish the one fact that he had not left the
city, since no one saw him in the station on the morning of the 17th,
nor at any time since then.
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