“Won’t you come with us to the captain’s lodgings, Arnold, and see?” cried Charlotte. “It would not do, would it, for us to go there alone at this time of night? The captain may be in bed.”
Arnold Knox looked at his sister; looked at the three of them, as if he thought they were enough without him. He was nearly done up with his long day’s work.
“I suppose I had better go with you, Lotty,” he said. “Though I don’t think Captain Collinson would kidnap any one of you if you went alone.”
“Oh dear, no; it is Mina he wants to kidnap, not us,” answered Lotty, freely. And Arnold glanced at her keenly as he heard the words.
Did you ever know a fellow in the hey-dey of his health and restlessness who was not ready for any night expedition—especially if it were to search after something lost? Dr. Knox took up his hat to accompany the visitors, and we three took up ours.
We proceeded in a body through the moonlit streets to Collinson’s lodgings; the few stragglers we met no doubt taking us all for benighted wayfarers, trudging home from some one or other of the noted Lefford soirées. Collinson had the rooms at the hairdresser’s—good rooms, famed as the best lodgings in the town. The gas was alight in his sitting-room over the shop; a pretty fair proof that the captain was yet up.
“Stay, Lotty,” said Dr. Knox, arresting her impatient hand, that was lifted to pull the bell. “No need to arouse the house: I dare say Pink and his family are in bed. I will go up to Collinson.”
It was easy to say so, but difficult to do it. Dr. Knox turned the handle of the door to enter, and found it fastened. He had to ring, after all.
Nobody answered it. Another ring and another shared the same fate. Dr. Knox then searched for some small loose stones, and flung them up at the window. It brought forth no more than the bell had.
“Dicky can’t be there, or that gravel would have brought him to the window,” decided Lotty. “I should say Captain Collinson is not there, either.”