No comfort was to be had there, and Mrs. Holdfast hastened home; the dread of foul play growing upon her with sickening force.
Another hour she waited. It had grown quite dark. John never stayed away like this without previous warning.
Mrs. Holdfast went again next door, in her misery, and found Stevens just come in. He knew nothing, he said—had seen nothing, heard nothing. He had not set eyes on Holdfast that day.
At first he seemed very much disinclined to take any steps. "Holdfast's got himself into bad odour," he said; "staying in when the rest went out. He'd better have taken good advice."
Mrs. Holdfast would not then argue against the view that to go with the multitude must be the wiser course. She used all her energies to get him to act, and presently her entreaties overcame his reluctance. He left the house to make inquiries, and Sarah went back to her home.
Another long period of wearying suspense, and at length somebody was coming. Sarah knew what it meant, directly her ears caught the sound of shuffling footsteps. She went to the open door, and heard Stevens' voice—
"Come along! Here you are! Just home."
"John!" cried Sarah.
"I've found him. He's had a fall or something," said Stevens. "Been and tumbled into a pond."
Did Stevens really think so? There was a shamefaced sound in his voice.