"When did he go out—how long ago?"
"Dunno, sir," said the boy.
"Find out. Be sharp!"
The offices below were aroused into activity by the peremptory orders to find Gray. William Budd's version of his brief interview created some excitement. He described George Early as walking up and down the office with arms waving, and eyes starting from his head. He ordered Gray to be found, dead or alive. Budd was not sure that he didn't see a revolver lying on the desk.
Ten o'clock struck, but no Gray appeared. Office-boys and junior clerks had spurted east and west. Nobody knew where Gray had gone, and there appeared to be no reason why he should leave the office. He might have gone out on the firm's business, but if so nobody knew of it. Wild were the conjectures as to what was in store for him when he returned, and why he had disappeared.
At lunch-time Gray was still absent, and the latest news in the counting-house was that the "guvnor" had gone out to lunch with a slow, firm step, and a Napoleonic sternness of brow.
While this excitement was rife in Upper Thames Street, Mrs. Gray was busy with her work in the little Leytonstone house. If her husband had important business of his own to transact, it was clear she did not know it. She had just put up a pair of clean curtains to the front window, and lovingly caressed a pink bow that held one of them back, when a sharp knock came at the front door.
Mrs. Gray opened it, and started back in surprise, "Well, I never! This is a surprise! How do you do, Mr. Early? Won't you come in?"
George Early did go in. Moreover, he shook hands, and said that it was a pleasure to him to find Mrs. Gray looking so well. His smile was perhaps not so brilliant as of yore, but Mrs. Gray put that down to the worries of managing a large business, and the severity necessary to his position.
Mrs. Gray thought it very kind of her old lodger not to forget his landlady. She hoped Mrs. Early was well. George was pleased to say that Mrs. Early was in excellent health and spirits.