As we drove together towards the Temple, I learned a few more particulars of Dick's escapade. When he told his father his intention of marrying Miss Grey, the indignation of the baronet evidently knew no bounds, for even his daughter admitted that he had been less than courteous to poor Agnes, and what he had said to Dick was discreetly left to my imagination. This all happened yesterday; Agnes had retired, weeping, to her bedroom, and Dick, swearing, towards the stables. The orders he gave the coachman were only discovered afterwards; but his plans were well laid, for it was not till the culprits were missing at dinner that any one discovered they had only waited till darkness fell and then driven straight to the station. No message was left, no clew to their whereabouts. You can picture the state of mind the family were thrown into.
Morning came, but no letter with it, and by the middle of the day Miss Shafthead could stand the suspense no longer, so, in the same business-like fashion as Dick, without a word to her parents, she had started in pursuit. The aunt she proposed to spend the night with was not as yet informed that she was to have a visitor; business first, and till that was accomplished my fair companion was simply letting fate take charge of her. “With fate's permission, I shall assist,” I said to myself.
As we drew near to the Temple, she fell silent, and I felt sure that, despite her air of sang-froid, her sisterly heart was beating faster.
“Do you think they—I mean he—will have returned?” she said to me, suddenly, as we walked across the quiet court.
“Sooner or later he is sure to be in—if he is in London. May I ask you to say nothing as we ascend the stairs, and to permit me to make the inquiries?”
She gave her consent in a glance, and we tramped up the old wooden staircase till we stopped in silence before Dick's door. These chambers of the Temple are unprovided with any bells or other means of calling the inmates' attention beyond the simple method of knocking. If the heavy outer door of oak be closed, and he away from home, or disinclined to receive you, you may knock all afternoon without getting any satisfaction; and it was the latter alternative I feared. At this juncture I could imagine circumstances under which my friend might prefer to remain undisturbed.
For a moment I listened, and I was sure I could hear a movement inside. Then I knocked loudly. No answer. I knocked again, but still no answer.
“Stay where you are and make no sound,” I whispered to my companion. “Like the badger, he must be drawn.”
