Sutton cleared his voice twice, and with an overwhelming importance suitable to the occasion, said: "When the footman ran down to open the door just now, there was no one inside the car—nothing but the dust knee cover, and Miss Travers' feather boa."
After a deadly silence, Mrs. De Wolfe pulled herself together, rose and said, as she looked round, "Of course we shall find some ridiculous explanation; meanwhile, let us adjourn,—I will interview Saxton myself."
Whilst the ladies in the drawing-room were whispering, and wondering, and the men in the dining-room were "lighting up" and passing round the port, Mrs. De Wolfe entered the library, there to await her chauffeur. She was accompanied by Roger, and was not a little astonished, when Captain Mayne joined them. He made no excuse whatever, and looked serious, and unlike his usual cheery self. After a short delay, Saxton was ushered in,—a middle-aged, clean-shaven man,—of few words.
"Pray explain, Saxton, where you left Miss Travers, and Sir Dudley?" said his mistress.
"That's more than I can say, ma'am," and there was a moment's silence.
"Well, say something!" urged Mayne impatiently (thrusting a spoon into what was not his porridge).
"All I can say, is, that I never laid an eye on either, from the time we left the race stand—till now."
"Where did you stop?" asked Mayne; promptly forestalling Mrs. De Wolfe's anxious questions.
"At a little old farm by the road, to get water for the engine. I ran round to the pump and wasn't away two minutes—later on we had a fairly long wait, maybe a quarter of an hour, at Harraby railway crossing."
"And you never happened to look back into the car?" suggested Roger De Wolfe.