"You think it over," said Dick, a little impatiently, and went to the writing-table and scribbled a note.
"Dear Mother,—I thought I would come on here first on the chance of hearing something, and glad I did so. There is a letter from Cicely. It is all right. Jim and I are going up to-morrow morning. Don't worry.
"Dick."
Then, without taking any notice of Jim, still standing gazing at the letter in his hand with the same puzzled expression on his face, he went out and despatched the groom, closing the hall door after him.
He went back into the room and shut that door too. "Well!" he said sharply. "What the devil does it mean?"
Jim's expression had changed. It was now angry as well as puzzled. "It was when he went after her on Sunday," he said. "Damn him! I thought——"
"Never mind what you thought," said Dick. "When did he see her alone?"
"I was going to tell you. When we came over yesterday afternoon he saw her over the wall, and directly we got to the house he bolted off after her. He said he had promised to show her some sketches."
"But he didn't find her. He said so at tea-time—when she came out."
Jim was silent. "Perhaps that was a blind," said Dick. "How long was it before he came back and said he couldn't find her?"
"About half an hour, I should think. Not so much."