Once more the other two exchanged glances.
“We don’t know where Guy is,” said Harry. “Nobody does—at least, nobody that we know. He’s never been heard of for—I think it’s nearly seven years.”
“It is seven years,” remarked Valencia. “I remember.” She looked again at Harborough. “He went away, suddenly, just before you did,” she added. “And that’s seven years ago.”
Harborough moved a little uneasily in his chair. He had no wish to be drawn into discussion of the Markenmore family secrets. But he felt a certain curiosity.
“Do you mean that—literally?” he asked.
“Absolutely!” replied Valencia. “None of us—and no one connected with us—have heard a word of him since then.”
“But—money matters?” suggested Harborough. “He’d want money. Has he never applied for any?—some allowance, for instance?”
“He’d money of his own,” said Harry. “His mother’s money all came to him at her death. No—it’s as Val says, we’ve never heard anything of him since he left Markenmore, and we don’t know where he is. I wish we did!—my father can’t last long.”
Harborough rose from his chair.
“Well, I must go,” he said. “You’ll be sure to let me know if there’s anything I can do? But you say Sir Anthony’s not in immediate danger?”