Joseph Hutchinson's doze had almost deepened into sleep when he was awakened by the touch of her hand on his shoulder. She was standing by him, holding some sheets of her grandmother's letter, and several other sheets were lying on the table. Something had occurred which had changed her quiet look.
“Has aught happened to your grandmother?” he asked.
“No, Father, but this letter that's been following me from one place to another has got some queer news in it.”
“What's up, lass? Tha looks as if summat was up.”
“The thing that's happened has given me a great deal to think of,” was her answer. “It's about Mr. Temple Barholm and Mr. Strangeways.”
He became wide-awake at once, sitting up and turning in his chair in testy anxiety.
“Now, now,” he exclaimed, “I hope that cracked chap's not gone out an' out mad an' done some mischief. I towd Temple Barholm it was a foolish thing to do, taking all that trouble about him. Has he set fire to th' house or has he knocked th' poor lad on th' head?”
“No, he hasn't, Father. He's disappeared, and Mr. Temple Barholm's disappeared, too.”
“Disappeared?” Hutchinson almost shouted. “What for, i' the Lord's name?”
“Nobody knows for certain, and people are talking wild. The village is all upset, and all sorts of silly things are being said.”