“Well!” said Mr. Darling. “That’s rum.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Mergleson.
“It’s decidedly rum,” said Mr. Darling.
“We thought ’e might be ’iding from ’is work. Or cut off ’ome.”
“You didn’t send down to ask.”
“We was too busy with the week-end people. On the ’ole we thought if ’e ’ad cut ’ome, on the ’ole, ’e wasn’t a very serious loss. ’E got in the way at times.... And there was one or two things ’appened—... Now that they’re all gone and ’e ’asn’t turned up—Well, I came down, Mr. Darling, to arst you. Where’s ’e gone?”
“’E ain’t come ’ere,” said Mr. Darling surveying the garden.
“I ’arf expected ’e might and I ’arf expected ’e mightn’t,” said Mr. Mergleson with the air of one who had anticipated Mr. Darling’s answer but hesitated to admit as much.
The two gentlemen paused for some seconds and regarded each other searchingly.
“Where’s ’e got to?” said Mr. Darling.