"Hear, hear!" Peter said. "By the way, what if the Monk takes it into his head to go down some time to-day to have a look at us?"
"I thought of that," Michael said, "but I can't see any reason why he should. Neither Wilkes nor Spindle will: it's far too risky, besides which I've left Fripp to make himself a nuisance to Wilkes. The Monk can't go, because to be seen in daylight might give him away, and now of all times he won't take any chances."
Bowers came into the room, and went to Charles.. "Colonel Ackerley has called, sir, and he says if you could spare a moment he would like to speak to either you or the mistress. I've shown him into the library."
"All right, I'll come," Charles said. "I take it I'd better keep your presence here a secret even from him, Draycott?"
"Yes, don't tell anyone," Michael answered.
When Charles entered the library the Colonel rose from a chair by the window. "My dear fellow, I hope I haven't disturbed you, but I felt I must come up to inquire. My man told me about you coming up to my place to telephone last night, and this morning the milkman told him what had happened. Now is there any mortal thing I can do? Is my car any use to you? I never was more shocked in my life. Have you any idea what can have become of them?"
"None," Charles said. "We're worried to death about it. As far as we can make out they must have strolled out, possibly to meet us - we were dining with the Pennythornes, you know -and what happened then, or who spirited them away, we haven't the foggiest notion. The police are on to it, of course. The whole thing's a mystery. It seems certain somebody must have kidnapped them, but who, or why, we simply don't know. My wife's in a dreadful state: expects to hear of their bodies being discovered in some wood. I can't think it's as bad as that, though. It's awfully good of you to offer to help: I hoped I'd be able to get hold of you last night."
"I was over at Manfield. I'd have come like a shot if I'd been in. But can I do anything to-day?"
"Thanks very much, sir, but I don't think you can. Now the police have taken over, there's really nothing any of us can do. Of course we're getting on to the hospitals, and circulating a description. But it's awfully good of you to offer."
"Good of me be damned! I'm only sorry there's nothing I can do. But I needn't keep you here at any rate. I know you must be wishing me at Jericho. Don't forget to call me up if you want anything at any time. I may have to run over to Norchester this afternoon, and I might be late back. But my man will let you in if you should want to telephone again. You'll convey my deepest sympathy to your wife, won't you?"