"The upper servants do, and the detective was after me to tell him all about her, but I wouldn't say a word till I had asked what your lordship's wishes are."
"I thought Judson had left the castle?"
"So he has, my lord; this is the man from Scotland Yard. Griggs is his name. He was 'ere before Judson, but he had left the castle before you arrived."
Impossible even to attempt, to keep her disappearance a secret, thought Cyril. After all, perhaps she was not his protégée. He was always jumping at erroneous conclusions, and a description is so misleading. On the other hand, the combination of black hair and blue eyes was a most unusual one. Besides, it was already sufficiently remarkable that two young and beautiful women had fled from Newhaven on the same day (beauty being alas such a rarity!), but that three should have done so was well-nigh incredible. But could even the most superior of upper servants possess that air of breeding which was one of the girl's most noticeable attributes. It was, of course, within the bounds of possibility that this maid was well-born and simply forced by poverty into a menial position. One thing was certain—if his protégée was Priscilla Prentice, then this girl, in spite of her humble occupation, was a lady, and consequently more than ever in need of his protection and respect.
Well, assuming that it was Prentice he had rescued, what part had she played in the tragedy? Why had she feared arrest? She must have been present at the murder, but even in that case, why did she not realise that Lady Wilmersley's unbalanced condition would prevent suspicion from falling on any one else? The police had never even thought of her! And where had she hidden her mistress? It was all most mysterious.
Cyril sat weighing the pros and cons of one theory after another, completely oblivious of his housekeeper's presence.
Douglas, entering, discreetly interrupted his cogitations:
"The inquest is about to begin, my lord."