“After all,” he exclaimed. “She may have had the sense to go to her old Governess in Germany. She would be far more likely to confide in her than in Mrs. Hereford. I will telegraph to Dresden and inquire.”
“And when you have learnt where she is what do you propose to do?” said Ralph.
“Fetch her home, of course, and make her realise what people think of such escapades.”
Ralph seemed about to reply but he checked himself.
“Did you imagine I was going to let her set me at defiance?” said Sir Matthew. “Do you think a girl of nineteen will get the better of me?”
“Yes,” said Ralph, quietly. “I think she will.”
Sir Matthew laughed maliciously and rose to go.
“You’re a true Denmead,” he said. “Always sanguine, always foolish and unpractical. Well, good-night, Mr. Macneillie. I am sorry to have inflicted this visit on you. Good-night Ralph. Let me know at the Station Hotel as soon as you get a reply from the Herefords.” Ralph showed him to the door in silence, and returning to the sitting-room, flung himself down in a chair by the supper-table, and buried his face in his hands.
“What can I do!” he groaned. “Surely there must be something I could do for her.”
“Eat boy, eat,” said Macneillie in his genial voice. “You can’t think to any purpose when you are dog-tired and as hungry as a hunter. All very well for Sir Mathew to come in here and rant at half past eleven when he had dined luxuriously at eight, but for strolling players, who feed at four and work like galley slaves all the evening, it’s not so easy.”