"Lost!" cried Marmaduke. "When, where? When do you last recollect seeing it? you must know!"
"In the morning," said Dick, twirling his chain, where part of the cheap gilt fastening still hung.
"No; afternoon. I don't know," he added helplessly.
Paul sank down on a chair with a heartbroken groan; a moment ago he had felt himself very near his goal, he had regained something of his old influence over Dick, he had actually managed to touch his heart—and now it was all in vain!
Paradine's jaw fell; he, too, had had his dreams of doing wonderful things with the talisman after he had cajoled Dick to part with it. Whether the restoration of his brother-in-law formed any part of his programme, it is better, perhaps, not to inquire. His dreams were scattered now; the Stone might be anywhere, buried in London mud, lying on railway ballast, or ground to powder by cartwheels. There was little chance, indeed, that even the most liberal rewards would lead to discovery. He swore long and comprehensively.
As for Mr. Bultitude, he sat motionless in his chair, staring in dull, speechless reproach at the conscience-stricken Dick, who stood in the corner blinking and whimpering with an abject penitence, odd and painful to see in one of his portly form. The children had now apparently finished supper, for there were sounds above as of dancing, and "Sir Roger de Coverley," with its rollicking, never-wearying repetition, was distinctly audible above the din and laughter. Once before, a week ago that very day, had that heartless piano mocked him with its untimely gaiety.
But things were not at their worst even yet, for, while they sat like this, there was a sharp, short peal at the house-bell, followed by loud and rather angry knocking, for carriages being no longer expected, the servants and waiters had now closed the front-door, and left the passage for the supper-room.
"The visitors' bell!" cried Paul, roused from his apathy; and he rushed to the window which commanded a side-view of the portico; it might be only a servant calling for one of the children, but he feared the worst, and could not rest till he knew it.
It was a rash thing to do, for as he drew the blind, he saw a large person in a heavy Inverness cloak standing on the steps, and (which was worse) the person both saw and recognised him!
With fascinated horror, Mr. Bultitude saw the Doctor's small grey eyes fixed angrily on him, and knew that he was hunted down at last.