"Why, yes," she hesitated. "I grew so impatient I came across to see if you had got home. Have you found anything?"
"Yes, yes!" they reiterated, as Mrs. Desborough herself appeared behind her.
"Where is Kathleen?" she asked, looking beyond the deputy—whom she failed to recognize in the gloom of the storm—to the dripping coolies. The men were crowding in the veranda, rubbing their wet feet and wringing the water from their calico garments.
In the hubble-bubble of the many tongues she failed to understand anything.
"Kathleen is all right," said Bona quickly. "I told you she was with her father."
"Calm your anxiety, my dear Mrs. Desborough," began the deputy, with a seriousness which he intended should prepare the way; but it only startled her.
"What does all this mean?" she asked, looking from one to the other.
"It means—well, it means—" and the deputy coughed to gain time.—"Just see, Oliver," he added aside.
"Bother it!" muttered the boy; "I can't open this door."
Bona hastened to his help; but they pushed against it in vain.