“Isn’t Luke at home then?” said I. “Perhaps he’s out for a walk.”
“He is always at home,” said the Doctor frowning in a peculiar sort of way. “And even if he were out for a walk he wouldn’t leave his door banging in the wind behind him. There is something queer about this—What are you doing in there, Jip?”
“Nothing much—nothing worth speaking of,” said Jip examining the floor of the hut extremely carefully.
“Come here, Jip,” said the Doctor in a stern voice. “You are hiding something from me. You see signs and you know something—or you guess it. What has happened? Tell me. Where is the Hermit?”
“I don’t know,” said Jip looking very guilty and uncomfortable. “I don’t know where he is.”
“Well, you know something. I can tell it from the look in your eye. What is it?”
But Jip didn’t answer.
For ten minutes the Doctor kept questioning him. But not a word would the dog say.
“Well,” said the Doctor at last, “it is no use our standing around here in the cold. The Hermit’s gone. That’s all. We might as well go home to luncheon.”