§
He had been to Mr. Pinner. He had heard what Mr. Pinner had to say. The man had behaved well, had done his duty and sent her straight home; but she hadn’t got there.
Fear now descended on Jocelyn’s and his mother’s souls,—fear ten times greater than the fear of the morning; such fear that they were hardly aware of the Walkers, and Miss Cartwright, and old Mrs. Pugh, and said goodbye to them mechanically, and hadn’t an idea what any of them were saying, and the dusk deepened, and night came, and it grew late, and they sat listening and watching at the window, the window wide open so as to catch the first sounds of a footstep on the path, and they sat in almost complete silence, for they were too much frightened to speak.
That child—somewhere out there in the darkness—that beautiful, ignorant child, by herself in London—Sally, who had only to appear to collect a crowd—Sally, so trustful, so ready to obey anybody....
But what did one do? Who did one go to? What could one do but still, in the dark, not speaking, hardly breathing so intently were they listening, wait?
Fragments of what Mr. Pinner had said drifted in and out of Jocelyn’s brain——
‘Told ’er to take a taxi all the way....’
‘Give ’er a pound, I did....’
‘Mistake was, lettin’ that there car go....’
That car? What car?
‘Mother,’ he said suddenly, ‘what car?’
‘What car, my darling?’
‘She arrived there in a car. Her father said so. I forgot to tell you.’
‘A car?’
Mrs. Luke got up quickly. So did he. She turned on the light, and it shone on their pale faces staring at each other. He hadn’t remembered the car till that moment.
Then without a word she went into the passage, snatched up a coat, wrapped it round herself, and before he could speak was out of the house. ‘Wait there,’ she called over her shoulder, ‘wait there—she might come——’
A car. Whose car but Edgar’s? Had Edgar——? Was Edgar——?
No, no. Impossible. She had arrived alone at her father’s, and the car had left her there.