"I AM WEARY OF MY PART."
Reginald mounted his horse, questioned the ostler respecting the way to the appointed spot on the river-bank, and rode away in the direction indicated. He had no difficulty in discovering the scene of the appointed meeting. The light of the torches in the hands of the searchers guided him to the spot.
Here he found gentlemen and grooms, huntsmen and farmers, on horseback, riding up and down the river-bank; some carrying lighted torches, whose lurid glare shone red against the darkness of the night; all busy, all excited.
Amongst these the baronet found Douglas Dale, who rode up to meet his cousin, as the other approached.
"Any news, Reginald?" he asked, in a voice that was hoarse with fatigue and excitement.
"None," answered Sir Reginald: "I have ridden miles, and made many inquiries, but have been able to discover no traces. Have you no tidings?"
"None but evil ones," replied Douglas Dale, in a tone of despair "we have found a battered hat on the edge of the river—hat which my brother's valet identifies as that worn by his master. We fear the worst, Reginald—the very worst. All inquiries have been made in the village, at every farm-house in the parish, and far beyond the parish. My brother has been seen nowhere. Since we rode down the hill, it seems as if no human eye had rested on him. In that moment he vanished as utterly as if the earth had opened to swallow him up alive."
"What is it that you fear?"
"We fear that he tried to cross the river at some point higher up, where the stream is swollen to a perilous extent, and that both horse and rider were swept away by the current."
"In that case both horse and rider must be found—alive or dead."