‘Gone out? No one, mum!’
‘Is Mrs. Rodman lying still?’
The girl went to see. She had left Alice for a few moments previously. She appeared again at the head of the stairs with a face of alarm.
‘Mrs. Rodman isn’t there, mum!’
Mutimer flew up the staircase. Alice was nowhere to be found. It could not be doubted that she had fled in a delirious state. Richard rushed into the street, but it was very dark, and rain was falling. There was no trace of the fugitive. He came back to the door, where Adela stood; he put out his hand and held her arm as if she needed support.
‘Give me my hat! She’ll die in the street, in the rain! I’ll go one way; the girl must go the other. My hat!’
‘I will go one way myself,’ said Adela hurriedly. ‘You must take an umbrella: it pours. Mary! my waterproof!’
They ran in opposite directions. It was a quiet by-street, with no shops to cast light upon the pavement. Adela encountered a constable before she had gone very far, and begged for his assistance. He promised to be on the look-out, but advised her to go on a short distance to the police-station and leave a description of the missing woman. She did so; then, finding the search hopeless in this quarter, turned homewards. Mutimer was still absent, but he appeared in five minutes; as unsuccessful as herself. She told him of her visit to the station.
‘I must keep going about,’ he said. ‘She can’t be far off; her strength, surely, wouldn’t take her far.’
Adela felt for him profoundly; for once he had not a thought of himself, his distress was absorbing. He was on the point of leaving the house again, when she remembered the meeting at which he was expected. She spoke of it.