Nugent stared at the improvised ladder of fertilizer kegs, and at the aperture overhead, with a thoughtful frown.
"That is hardly girl's work, yet she cannot have had help," he muttered. "If she had contrived to attract attention, no one would have been at the pains of breaking open the roof for her when the key was on the outside of the door all the time. Certainly she had hours to do it in; and she's more than half a boy."
He turned away, and, crossing the dewy lawn, entered his library by the unfastened French window. The shaded lamp had been lit, shedding a pleasant glow over the cosy bachelor room, and he gave a little sigh of content. He was fain to admit that he was tired with the day's exertions, and glad to be home again. He rang the bell, and the soft-footed Sinnett appeared.
"Mix me some whisky and soda water and give me a cigar," he said. "You have nothing out of the common to report?"
"Nothing that you do not know already, sir," was the reply. "Tuke will have informed you about Miss Mallory and the stone grotto."
"That is why I asked," rejoined Nugent. "The young lady has gone, and part of the roof of the grotto has been removed. You have heard or seen nothing that would account for it?"
"Nothing at all, sir. I have not been in the garden, but no sound reached me in the house. And I have been listening—in case she called out."
Nugent nodded, knowing the man's ways. "And that mad French seller of onions, he has not been here to-day?" he continued.
"No, sir; I haven't seen him for a day or two."
"Thank you, Sinnett. Then that will be all now I think. Don't go to bed just yet. I may want you to go out and post a letter for the early collection."