“Wait till I get a lamp,” said the woman, and she pattered nervously out.
By the fading light, we could see the disordered bed, the open window, and an overturned chair. A glimmer of light came down the passage, and the woman hurried back, followed by Dorothy. No more information could be gleaned. Evidently the lost man had risen, dressed completely, and left by the low open window. The woman of the house was in great distress, weeping and rocking. “The poor crazy man, lost in these woods. He was as harmless as anything. I thought he was all right.”
Dorothy sat down beside her, and, soothing her, began a series of quiet questions. “How long did you leave him?”
“An hour or more.” She had been doing the supper dishes. Dorothy turned to the husband.
“What roads are there from here?”
“Only one for a mile. That goes from the front of the house.”
The woman broke in. “If he’d taken that, I’d have seen him. He’d have gone by my window. He must have gone to the shore or the woods.”
“There’s no use waiting. He’s only getting farther away from us,” cried Tom. “Let’s look around the house.”
Our fisher friend had two lanterns and a kerosene light. With these, we began the search. The sand and rock around the house gave no sign of footprints, and we passed out in widening circles, meeting and calling without avail. A half hour’s exploration left us just where we started. We had found nothing. Turning back, we met Dorothy at the door.
“I was afraid you would find nothing,” she said. “I’ve just found out that he said one thing beside the sentence which he continually repeated. Once he said, ‘The sea, the sea, the awful sea.’ I believe he has gone to the shore.”