Now they went in search of the woman, knowing nothing about her, not even her name. She was probably the housekeeper. Agnes would know. But they hated to disturb Agnes. She was at the other side of the mansion and it was very late. Besides, they had a feeling that the sequel might be distressing.
The woman had vanished. They could find no trace of her, nor could they raise any servants indoors, for the reason afterward disclosed that latterly Enoch’s ménage had consisted of three persons,—housekeeper, gardener and stable man.
“Let’s try the stable,” John suggested. “There must be somebody alive.”
On their way to the stable they stared curiously at a great unsightly heap of ashes, still smoking and glowing in spots, on the back terrace, as if a miscellaneous lot of things had been gathered hastily together and burned.
“Strange place for a fire,” said Thane, with an unspoken intuition that John shared.
The stable-man was sitting up, smoking, with the look of a man whose eyes have seen more than mind can grasp. He knew Thane and seemed comforted by the advent of human society.
“Nobody in the house. What’s the matter?” Thane asked.
“I ain’t the housekeeper,” said the stable-man. “No, thank God, I ain’t her. She’s on her way.”
“Way where?”
“Wherever,” he said, with the air of a man who for cause has newly resolved not to meddle with things that will be.