“Of spiriting away her daughter,” put in Duffham; who was standing back against the shelves.
“But I have not done it,” spluttered Hyde, talking too fast for convenience in his passion. “If I had spirited her away, as you call it, here she would be. Where could I spirit her to?—up into the air, or below the ground?”
“That’s just the question—where is she?” rejoined Duffham, gently swaying his big cane.
“How should I know where she is?” retorted Hyde. “If I had ‘spirited’ her away—I must say I like that word!—here she’d be. Do you suppose I have got her in my house?—or down at the brick-kilns?”
Abel, since his first checked sentence, had been standing quietly and thoughtfully, giving his whole attention to Hyde, as if wanting to see what he was made of. For the second time he essayed to speak.
“You see, sir, we do not know that she is not here. We have your word for it; but——”
“Then you had better look,” interrupted Hyde, adding something about “insolence” under his breath. “Search the house. You are welcome to. Mr. Duffham can show you about it; he knows all its turnings and windings.”
What could have been in old Abel’s thoughts did not appear on the surface; but he left the room with just a word of respectful apology for accepting the offer. Hyde, who had made it at random in his passion, never supposing it would be caught at, threw back his head disdainfully, and sent a contemptuous word after him. But when Duffham moved off in the same direction, he was utterly surprised.
“Are you going to search?”
“I thought you meant me to be his pilot,” said Duffham, as cool as you please. “There’s not much to be seen. I expect, but the chairs and tables.”