"You say that it is impossible that any one can have entered this house, and left it, during that night," said Captain Copplestone to the housekeeper; "and yet some one must have left the house, even if no one entered it, or Gertrude Eversleigh must be hidden within these walls. Has the castle been thoroughly searched? There are stories of children who have hidden themselves in sport, to find the sport end in terrible earnest."
"The castle has been searched from garret to cellar," answered Mrs. Morden. "Mrs. Smithson and I have gone together into every room, and opened every cupboard."
The captain dismissed the assembly, after having asked many questions without result. When this was done, he went alone to the library, where he shut himself in, and seated himself at the writing-table, with pen and ink before him, to meditate upon, the steps which should be first taken in the work that lay before him.
That work was no less painful a task than the writing of a letter to Lady Eversleigh, to inform her of the calamity which had taken place—of the terrible realization of her worst fears. Captain Copplestone's varied and adventurous life had never brought him a severer or more painful duty, but he was not the man to shirk or defer it, because it involved suffering to himself.
The letter was written, and despatched by the evening post, and then the captain shut himself up in his own room, and gave way to the bitterest grief he had ever experienced.
Who shall describe the agony which Lady Eversleigh suffered when Captain Copplestone's letter reached her? For the first half-hour after she read it, a blight seemed to fall upon her senses, and she sat still in her chair, stupefied; but when she rallied, her first impulse was to send for Andrew Larkspur, who was now nearly restored to his usual state of sound health.
She rang the bell, and summoned Jane Payland.
"There is a lawyer's clerk living in this house," she said; "Mr. Andrews. Go to him immediately, and ask him to favour me with an interview. I wish to consult him on a matter of business."
"Yes, ma'am," answered Miss Payland, looking inquisitively at the ashen face of her mistress. "There's something fresh this morning," she muttered to herself, as she tripped lightly up the stairs to do her bidding.
Mr. Larkspur—or Mr. Andrews—presented himself before Lady Eversleigh a few minutes after he received her message. He found her pacing the room in a fever of excitement.