“Jack is not returned, Sir,” answered the housekeeper.
It was with a mingled sense of relief and uneasiness on that point that the priest took the road through the village. That Jack was out of the way was a delicious relief. But suppose Jack should spring suddenly on him out of some hedge, or on turning a corner? Out of the way might turn out to be all the more surely in it.
Undisturbed, however, by any vision of a black face and a feathery tail, Mr Bastian reached Roger Hall’s door. Nell opened it, and unwillingly admitted that her master was at home, Mr Bastian being so early that Roger had not yet left his house for the works. Roger received him in his little parlour, to which Christie had not yet been carried.
“Hall, are you aware of your master’s flight?”
Roger Hall opened his eyes in genuine amazement.
“No, Sir! Is he gone, then?”
“He never returned home after leaving the works yesterday.”
Roger’s face expressed nothing but honest concern for his master’s welfare. “He left the works scarce past three of the clock,” said he, “and took the road toward Primrose Croft. God grant none ill hath befallen him!”
“Nought o’ the sort,” said the priest bluntly. “The gentlewomen be gone belike, and Osmund with them. ’Tis a concerted plan, not a doubt thereof: and smelleth of the fire (implies heretical opinions), or I mistake greatly. Knew you nought thereof? Have a care how you make answer!”
“Father, you have right well amazed me but to hear it. Most surely I knew nought, saving only that when I returned home yestre’en, my little maid told me Mistress Grena had been so good as to visit her, and had brought her a cake and a posy of flowers from the garden. But if Osmund were with her or no, that did I not hear.”