III
I met Challis in the lane. He was coming away from Mrs. Stott’s cottage.
“Have you found him?” I asked stupidly. I knew quite well that the Wonder was not found, and yet I had a fond hope that I might, nevertheless, be mistaken.
Challis shook his head. “There will be a mad woman in that cottage if he doesn’t come back by nightfall,” he remarked with a jerk of his head. “I’ve done what I can for her.”
I explained that I had been over to Deane Hill, searching and calling.
“You didn’t see anything?” asked Challis, echoing my foolish query of a moment before. I shook my head.
We were both agitated without doubt.
We soon came up with Farmer Bates and his men. They stopped and touched their hats when they saw us, and we put the same silly question to them.
“You haven’t found him?” We knew perfectly well that they would have announced the fact at once if they had found him.
“One of you go over to the Court and get any man you can find to come and help,” said Challis. “Tell Heathcote to send every one.”
One of the labourers touched his cap again, and started off at once with a lumbering trot.
Challis and I walked on in silence, looking keenly about us and stopping every now and then and calling. We called “Hallo! Hallo-o!” It was an improvement upon my whistle.
“He’s such a little chap,” muttered Challis once; “it would be so easy to miss him if he were unconscious.”
It struck me that the reference to the Wonder was hardly sufficiently respectful. I had never thought of him as “a little chap.” But Challis had not known him so intimately as I had.
The shadows were fast creeping over the Common. At the woodside it was already twilight. The whole of the western sky right up to the zenith was a finely shaded study in brilliant orange and yellow. “More rain,” I thought instinctively, and paused for a moment to watch the sunset. The black distance stood clearly silhouetted against the sky. One could discern the sharp outline of tiny trees on the distant horizon.
We met Heathcote and several other men in the lane.
“Shan’t be able to do much to-night, sir,” said Heathcote. “It’ll be dark in ’alf an hour, sir.”
“Well, do what you can in half an hour,” replied Challis, and to me he said, “You’d better come back with me. We’ve done what we can.”
I had a picture of him then as the magnate; I had hardly thought of him in that light before. The arduous work of the search he could delegate to his inferiors. Still, he had come out himself, and I doubt not that he had been altogether charming to the bewildered, distraught mother.
I acquiesced in his suggestion. I was beginning to feel very tired.
Mrs. Heathcote was at the gate when we arrived at the Court. “’Ave they found ’im, sir?” she asked.
“Not yet,” replied Challis.