I was almost out of hearing when she had finished, for at the commencement of her speech I had quickened my pace. When I clambered up the bank to reach the footpath I looked behind. They were walking along the road together—an oddly assorted couple. His shoulders were up—a bad sign—and he was taking long strides, to keep up with which she had almost to run, holding her skirts in both hands, and picking her way through the mud. Behind in the doorway of the Yellow House I saw a woman, pale and motionless, watching me with wistful, sorrowing eyes. But I turned my head and hurried away.
CHAPTER XXI
OUT OF DANGER
I went straight to my father’s room, with only a very confused sense of what I wanted to say to him floating in my mind. But to my amazement, when I had softly opened the door and stood inside the room, he was not upon the bed, or on the couch. The room was empty. I passed through into the drawing room with the same result. Then I retraced my steps down into the hall and saw that his hat was gone from the stand and also his overcoat.
I called to Alice, and she came out to me from our little drawing room.
“Where is father?” I cried, breathlessly. “He is not upstairs!”
She drew me into the room. Her round face was very sober, and her eyes were grave.
“He left for London a quarter of an hour ago,” she declared, impressively.
“Left for London!” I repeated, bewildered. “Why, he was scarcely well enough to stand. Did he dress himself?”