The question was not answered.
He started up--incredulous--then set off running, calling as he ran, "Jerry! Jerry! What on earth are you up to? Jerry! Jerry!"
For in the dimness that was not quite darkness, he had seen a little figure running like a hare between the bushes, a little figure in an Eton suit with a gleam of white collar.
"Jerry! Jerry! you little fool! pull up, will you!" There was no answer, and he had lost sight of the boy; but, as he ran on, the sound of other footsteps behind him made him look round and pause. For it was my Lady Greensleeves running too. He could see the "crimson stockings all o' silk, and pumps white as is the milk," as they sped over the grass.
"Jerry!" she gasped. "Where is he? What is it?"
"On ahead somewhere! God knows! I told you we were all mad," he answered as he ran on. The flowering bushes, growing thick upon the lawns near the cemetery, hid his quarry; but suddenly, on the double back towards the Residency, the child's figure showed, still running like a hare. In the light of a Chinese lantern that flared up as candle met paper, his face looked dogged.
'Whoo hoop! gone away! Stick to 'im, sir! stick to 'im--
"For we'll all go a-'unting to-day! we'll all go a-'unting to-day!"
trolled a new voice, and two more pairs of running feet joined the chase as Jân-Ali-shân and Budlu appeared from the cemetery.
'What, in the devil's name, is it all about, Ellison,' called Jack Raymond. 'Are we all mad? What is it?'