Any way, Kettie was not to be seen. The house was but a small one, with no surreptitious closets or cupboards, or other hiding-places. All the rooms and passages stood open to the morning sun, and never a suspicious thing was in them.
Hyde had settled to his accounts again when they got back. He did not condescend to turn his head or notice the offenders any way. Abel waited a moment, and then spoke.
“It may seem to you that I have done a discourteous thing in availing myself of your offer, Mr. Stockhausen; if so, I crave your pardon for it. Sir, you cannot imagine how seriously this disappearance of the child is affecting her mother. Let it plead my excuse.”
“It cannot excuse your suspicion of me,” returned Hyde, pausing for a moment in his adding up.
“In all the ends of this wide earth there lies not elsewhere a shadow of clue to any motive for her departure. At least, none that we can gather. The only ground for thinking of you, sir, is that you and she have been friendly. For all our sakes, Mr. Stockhausen, I trust that she will be found, and the mystery cleared up.”
“Don’t you think you had better have the brick-kilns visited—as well as my house?” sarcastically asked Hyde. But Abel, making no rejoinder, save a civil good-morning, departed.
“And now I’ll go,” said Duffham.
“The sooner the better,” retorted Hyde, taking a penful of ink and splashing some of it on the floor.
“There’s no cause for you to put yourself out, young man.”
“I think there is cause,” flashed Hyde. “When you can come to my house with such an accusation as this!—and insolently search it!”