“He heard!” said Mrs. Bowles in a large whisper and making round wonder-eyes.
“She says,” said Douglas, “that the chances are he’s got into the secret passages....”
The Professor strolled out to the road and looked up it and then down upon the roofs of Winthorpe-Sutbury. “No,” he said. “He’s mizzled.”
“He’s only gone away for a bit,” said Mrs. Geedge. “He does sometimes after lunch. He’ll come back to wash up.”
“He’s probably taking a snooze among the yew bushes before facing the labours of washing up,” said Mrs. Bowles. “He can’t have mizzled. You see — in there — He can’t by any chance have taken his luggage!”
She got up and clambered—with a little difficulty because of its piled-up position, into the caravan. “It’s all right,” she called out of the door. “His little parsivel is still here.”
Her head disappeared again.
“I don’t think he’d go away like this,” said Madeleine. “After all, what is there for him to go to—even if he is Lady Laxton’s missing boy....”
“I don’t believe he heard a word of it,” said Mrs. Geedge....
Mrs. Bowles reappeared, with a curious-looking brown paper parcel in her hand. She descended carefully. She sat down by the fire and held the parcel on her knees. She regarded it and her companions waggishly and lit a fresh cigarette. “Our link with Dick,” she said, with the cigarette in her mouth.