Very slowly the Reverend Mr. Rashleigh read this paragraph to its end. He laid down the paper and looked thoughtfully at the cat.
"Extraordinary!" murmured the Reverend Raymond, half aloud—"most extraordinary! Like a scene in a novel; like nothing in real life. Has the earth opened and swallowed her up? Has she gone off with some younger and handsomer lover? Or has she been decoyed from home by the machinations of some enemy? She had many, poor child! That unfortunate Sir Roger is like a man insane. He is offering half his fortune for her recovery. It is really very, very extraordinary. Quite a romance in real life. Come in!"
There had been a tap at the study door; a maid-servant entered.
"There's a young woman down-stairs, sir, wishes to see you most particular."
"Ah, indeed! Who is she? What is her business with me?"
"I don't know, sir. Something very important, she says."
"Show her up."
The girl departed, ran down-stairs, ran up again, followed by a respectable-looking young woman of pleasing aspect.
"Well, my child,"—he was very fatherly and bland, was the Reverend Raymond Rashleigh—"and what may you want with me?"
"My Mistress sent me, sir. I am Mrs. Holywell's maid."