Mr Young, however, had no light to throw upon the subject; neither had Barney’s special companions among the clerks, who were interviewed in their turn. The lad had left the office alone, so that the identity of his companion still remained a mystery, which the tobacconist alone could solve. The two therefore made their way to the little shop, where Madge’s sketch was displayed in all its glory in the window, but neither brother nor friend had the heart to laugh at it to-day. The tinkling bell announced their entrance to the proprietor, and they lost no time in telling him the object of their visit. Two young gentlemen had been in the habit of visiting his shop and asking his advice on racing matters, their last call happening the night before, somewhere about five o’clock. The younger of the two was tall, dark, and handsome; for private reasons his friends were anxious to interview his companion. Who was he, and where employed?
Did the man know or did he not? He professed utter ignorance, but there was a slyness on his face which did not escape the notice of his questioners. A number of gentlemen came to his shop; sometimes they did happen to talk of a race if it was near at hand; but he never inquired a customer’s name. Gentlemen wouldn’t like it. Couldn’t say for certain that he remembered the two just mentioned.
“The man lies. We will waste no more time on him,” said the Hermit sternly as he turned away from the door. “Go back to your office, Charrington, and leave me to see the police and put an advertisement in the papers. That is all that we can do at the moment, though I shall not rest until I have tracked that unknown friend. He will probably be able to tell us more than any one else. I’ll think out a plan of action for the next few days. This is my business as well as yours; for the boy has been like a young brother to me this last year.”
Looking back on the days which followed Barney’s disappearance, the Charringtons were often puzzled to understand how they endured the strain and suspense, and marvelled at their own composure. Day after day the Hermit continued his search, and came home weary and disappointed; day by day Philippa listened to his report with a steady face, and abated not one of her usual efforts for the comfort of the household, while the three younger sisters set their teeth and went on doggedly with their work.
“If we were actresses or public singers we should have to keep our appointments, and smile and look cheerful; if we were clerks or teachers we should have to turn out as usual, and be patient and forbearing; if we were shop assistants we should have to stand on our feet all day long, and be polite, however much we were aggravated. We are poor things if we call ourselves working women and then indulge our feelings like any fine lady,” Theo had said sternly to two drooping figures who sat by the fire gazing at idle fingers, and she had no need to speak a second time. In the temporary eclipse of Madge’s bright spirits, Theo had taken upon herself to be the cheery, inspiring member of the family, which rôle shook her out of the old self-engrossed groove, and suited her well. Now, as she went into her room and sat down at her desk, her heart swelled with a sense of joy and gratitude for the talent which had been entrusted to her care. She took up her manuscript and set to work with none of the difficulty and hesitation which often hampered her progress: the thoughts crowded into her brain; the right word came of itself and did not need to be sought; the difficult point was overcome, and she laughed with delight at the wittiness of her own dialogue. Here, then, was a discovery, that even sorrow had its compensation, since it brought with it fresh understanding, earnestness, and delicacy of touch. When she went in to lunch, the light on her face made her sisters look and wonder.
“No need to ask how you have fared to-day, Theo,” Hope said. “I don’t know who your characters are at the moment, but they have been good children this morning.”
“Couldn’t be better,” said the author brightly. “So charmingly alive, and saying such witty things! It is a curious delusion, but when I do my best work I always feel as if some one else suggested it. I was sad enough in my own heart to-day, but as I wrote a little sprite seemed to whisper in my ear. The good things came! I didn’t create them. I suppose the really great writers often feel like that I am quite sure that when they read over their books they are astounded at their own cleverness.”
“It must be a very—a very agreeable sensation. I have never been the least little bit surprised at mine. I tried to work, too, but I didn’t get on well. You two girls make me ashamed of myself, but I think sometimes that I was never meant to be a public character,” sighed Hope, wrinkling her forehead in her pretty, wistful fashion. “I don’t seem to have the faculty of earning money.”
“Because nature intended some one else to make it for you, darling! You are one of the dear, frightened, humble little creatures who need a big strong man to stand between them and the world. I do hope you will marry, Hope! Do, please, the first chance you get. You’d be ever so much happier, and it would be so agreeable for us. Marry a rich man who lives in the country, and send us hampers every week!” cried unsuspecting Madge. It seemed natural enough to the others that Hope should blush at the suggestion; only Theo understood the meaning of that blush, and the train of thought which suggested the reply.