"Because she told me," said Peter quietly, watching the effect of his words on the face of the man before him.
Jem's mouth worked as he tried to keep down his emotion. Then Meg still looked upon him as her friend. He breathed quickly.
"I'll seek her till I find her," he murmured in a low voice, "and if luck don't come my way I'll die seeking her."
"I'm glad to hear you say that," said Peter gravely. "You took her by surprise the other day. But my belief is that she depends upon you more than on any human being, though perhaps she hardly knows it herself just at present. I also mean to search for her."
"You?"
"Yes, I. The young lady she lived with is my cousin, and for her sake I don't mean to leave any stone unturned. My cousin is very unhappy about it all."
But the words instead of comforting his hearer had the opposite effect. He sank down in his chair and looked hopelessly at Peter.
"Then it must be me after all," he groaned. "If you've all been kind nought must have driven her away but the sight of me. She's afeard of me. I might have known how it would be."
"You make a mistake; she didn't leave because of you. I can't explain, and we're only wasting time and words, but I'm going to the station now and shall interview the station master, and you'd better come with me in time to catch the next train if we find she has one to London or elsewhere by rail."
Jem rammed his hand into his pocket and brought out a few silver pieces. Then after counting them he put them back and looked across at Peter.