Much against his will Clarence was led into the parlor, and the curious glances which all his relatives directed toward him as he entered made him feel very uncomfortable. His uncle thought he acted ill at ease; Bert’s mental comment was that he had been running a race with somebody; and Marshall told himself that he must have been rolled in a dust heap. Clarence could tell by the expression on their faces pretty nearly what they were thinking about, and it was with great effort that he aroused himself sufficiently to take any interest in what was going on. He played several tunes on his flute while his cousin Lucy accompanied him on the piano, and as soon as he could do so with any show of reason, he bade the company good-night and went to bed.
“I’d like to know where in the world you have spent your evenings since you have been here,” said Marshall, when he joined him in his room half an hour later. “Just as soon as it grows dark you’re off, and that’s the last we see of you until ten o’clock. Have you found a billiard saloon anywhere?”
“Perhaps you had better watch me, if you are so very anxious to find out where I go,” growled Clarence, in reply. “I am bored to death with this everlasting music, and it is a great pity if I can’t now and then take a quiet stroll and a cigar without exciting astonishment and setting the whole family to questioning me.”
Clarence slept but little that night, for his mind was in a very unsettled state; and a dread of impending evil, which he could not shake off, continually haunted him. The first words he exchanged with the first person he met the next morning, gave him new cause for alarm. That person was Bert, whom he encountered just as he stepped into the hall. His cousin’s face was very pale, and Clarence saw that he carried his whip in his hand and was dressed for a ride.
“O, Clarence!” cried Bert. “What do you think has become of Don?”
Clarence could only look the surprise which this abrupt question occasioned him. At the same time he felt a sinking at his heart for which he could not account.
“He wasn’t at home at all last night,” continued Bert. “We’ve made inquiries everywhere, and the last person who saw him was the hostler, who says that Don went into the barn about eight o’clock, but he didn’t see him come out again. Father and I are just about to start off to look for him!”
Clarence was too amazed to speak. He hurried out of the house and to the barn, where he found his uncle in the act of mounting his horse. There were two other persons in the barn—the hostler and Godfrey Evans. The hostler was putting the saddle on Bert’s pony, and Godfrey stood around looking the very picture of misery. He brightened up when he saw Clarence approaching.
“Now, Godfrey,” said the general, “will you do that much for me?”
“Yes, sar, an’ I’ll start now,” answered Godfrey, who made a few rapid steps toward the gate, and then suddenly stopped, faced about and came back again.