"I am going to see Mr. Phelps. He, if any one, will know what value to put upon that letter. Try and sleep, Sophy. I shall see you in the morning."
"Sleep?" echoed the poor girl, in a tone of anguish. "I feel as though I should never sleep again!"
When they had driven away, Alan took the nearest way to the Rectory. It was some way from the station, but Alan was a vigorous walker, and soon covered the distance. He arrived at the door with a beating heart and dry lips, feeling, he knew not why, that he was about to hear bad news. The gray-haired butler ushered him into his master's presence, and immediately the young man felt that his fears were confirmed. Phelps looked worried.
He was a plump little man, neat in his dress and cheerful in manner. He was a bachelor, and somewhat of a cynic. Alan had known him all his life, and could have found no better adviser in the dilemma in which he now found himself. Phelps came forward with outstretched hands.
"My dear boy, I am indeed glad! What good fairy sent you here? A glass of port? You look pale. I am delighted to see you. If you had not come I should have had to send for you."
"What do you wish to see me about, sir? asked Alan.
"About the disappearance of these two people."
"What two people?" asked the young man, suddenly alert. "You forget that I have been away from Heathton for the last three days."
"Of course, of course. Well, one is Brown, the stranger who stayed with Mrs. Marry."
"The Quiet Gentleman?"