And therewith I darted away from him and headlong into our house doorway.
CHAPTER XXXIII
THE OLD TOWER
My mother was at her knitting, in her easy-chair, in her own particular corner of the living-room when I rushed in, and though she started at the sight of me, she went on knitting as methodically as if all the world was regular as her own stitches.
"So you've come to your own roof at last, my man!" she said, with a touch of the sharpness that she could put into her tongue on occasion. "There's them would say you'd forgotten the way to it, judging by experience—why did you not let me know you were not coming home last night, and you in the town, as I hear from other folks?"
"Oh, mother!" I exclaimed. "How can you ask such questions when you know
how things are!—it was midnight when Mr. Lindsey and I got in from
Newcastle, and he would make me stop with him—and we were away again to
Edinburgh first thing in the morning."
"Aye, well, if Mr. Lindsey likes to spend his money flying about the country, he's welcome!" she retorted. "But I'll be thankful when you settle down to peaceful ways again. Where are you going now?" she demanded. "There's a warm supper for you in the oven!"
"I've had my supper at Mr. Lindsey's, mother," I said, as I dragged my bicycle out of the back-place. "I've just got to go out, whether I will or no, and I don't know when I'll be in, either—do you think I can sleep in my bed when I don't know where Maisie is?"
"You'll not do much good, Hugh, where the police have failed," she answered. "There's yon man Chisholm been here during the evening, and he tells me they haven't come across a trace of her, so far."
"Chisholm's been here, then?" I exclaimed. "For no more than that?"