“Both out?”
“Yes, ma’am. Smith, the keeper, just looked in, and said he was on his rounds, and he met Mr Alison, ma’am, going toward Buckley village, and soon after he saw one of the watchers, and he had seen Mr Neil, ma’am, walking as fast as he could toward Pinkley Pound.”
“Dear me, how strange!” said Aunt Anne. “No, no, don’t shut the window: Sir Cheltnam and Miss Elthorne are just outside. I may as well let him see that I know it, and stop the servants’ talking,” thought Aunt Anne.
The butler stared.
“Well, what is it?”
“Beg pardon, ma’am. Sir Cheltnam went round to the stables, had his horse put to in the dogcart, and drove away more than half an hour ago.”
“What?”
“And Maria says that Miss Isabel’s locked up in her bedroom, and has been there ever so long.”
“That will do,” said Aunt Anne with asperity; and the butler left the room. “Oh, dear me!” she cried; “the foolish girl! There must have been quite a scene. She’s thinking still of that wretched sailor, and poor Ralph will be so angry when he knows. I suppose I must go and ask her to come down.”
She went to the bedroom door, but there was no response whatever for some time, and then only a brief intimation that her niece was not coming down that night.