When one is endeavouring to find a reason why a girl should mysteriously disappear from her home, it does not help very much to find a few slips of paper on which are written such items as “Tennyson’s Poems, page 26,” “Selections from British Authors, 203,” “Macaulay’s Essays, 97,” etcetera.
Arthur and Mr Asplin looked at one another, puzzled and disappointed, and had no alternative but to return to the dining-room and confess their failure.
“Would not it be a good thing to go up to the Larches, and hear what Robert has to say on the subject?” Arthur asked; and when he was told that Robert was in London he still held to his suggestion.
“For someone else in the house may know about it,” he declared. “Rob may have confided in his mother or sister. At the worst we can get his address, and telegraph to him for information, if she has not returned before we get back. She might even have gone to the Larches herself to—to see Rosalind!”
“Peggy doesn’t like Rosalind. She never goes to see her if she can help it. I’m quite sure she has not gone there,” said Mellicent shrewdly. “It is more likely she has gone to Fräulein’s lodgings to tell her about Arthur. She is fond of Fräulein.”
The suggestion was not very brilliant, but it was hailed with eagerness by the listeners as the most probable explanation yet offered.
“Then I’ll tell you what we will do. I’ll go off to the Larches,” cried Arthur, “and one of you fellows can see Fräulein, and find out if Peggy has been there. We must try every place, likely and unlikely. It is better than sitting here doing nothing.”
Max frowned and hesitated. “Or—er—or you might go to Fräulein, and I’ll take the Larches! It is a long walk for you after your journey,” he suggested, with a sudden access of politeness, “and there seems more probability that Fräulein may be able to help us. You could go there and back in a short time.”
“Just as you like, of course. It is all the same to me,” returned Arthur, in a tone which plainly intimated that it was nothing of the sort. Mrs Asplin looked from one to the other of the flushed faces, realising that even in the midst of anxiety the image of beautiful, golden-haired Rosalind had a Will-o’-the-wisp attraction for the two big lads; but her husband saw nothing of what lay behind the commonplace words, and said calmly—
“Very well, then, Max, be off with you as fast as you can go. Find out if Robert has said anything about the work which he has had on hand; find out his address in town, and, if possible, where a telegram would reach him this evening. Arthur will call at Fräulein’s lodgings; and, Oswald, you might go with him so far, and walk through the village. Ask at old Mrs Gilpin’s shop if Miss Saville has been there, but don’t talk about it too much; we don’t want to make more fuss than we can help. Keep your eyes open!”