They entered the cloisters, and shouted for Charles. Nothing answered them but the echoes. To see whether he was there, was impossible. Judy thought he might be lying somewhere, insensible from fright, and she ran up and down feeling into niches, as one demented. Mr. Pye sent Tom back to old Ketch’s for a light, which was not supplied without difficulty.
He was turning away with it, when Hamish came up. Hamish had been with all speed to Mr. Huntley’s, to question Harry, as senior of the school, whether he knew what the trick of the night had been, and what boys were in it. Harry, however, who was in bed, assured Hamish of his complete ignorance. But for Mr. Huntley’s veto, he would have got up and gone out to join in the search, and enjoyed it amazingly.
They carried the candle to every nook and corner of the cloisters, no result arising from it. Hamish and Tom climbed over and searched the burial-ground. He was not there. No signs, for their keen eyes, or for any others, remained of the night’s work: the college boys were cautious. A couple of matches, half-burnt, lay on the ground in the north quadrangle, but they told nothing. The boys were often lighting matches, as the master knew.
“I really think you must be mistaken in supposing Charles’s absence has to do with this trick played upon old Ketch—whatever it may have been,” he observed. “It does not appear that the boys have been in the cloisters. Had any of them been locked in here, here they would be still.”
There was no denying it, and they left the cloisters and closed them. The keys were conveyed to Ketch, who had to get out of bed again to receive them, which he did with a great amount of wrath. Mr. Pye thought it would be proved that Charles must be at the house of one of the boys, carelessness or accident having detained him. And then he wished them good night and went home.
Completely at a loss were they. Hamish, ever hopeful, thought Charles had perhaps returned home: and they bent their steps thither. No, no; Constance, Arthur, and curious Sarah, were all outside, looking every way. Constance was too agitated to remain indoors. Arthur had just returned home. He had been to the houses of some of the college boys, those with whom Charles was most intimate, but could obtain no tidings of him.
Constance burst into tears. She grew excessively alarmed, when Judy mentioned the doubt lest he had been shut in the cloisters. “But that fear is done away with,” said Hamish. “We have searched them thoroughly. Do not distress yourself, Constance.”
“There goes midnight!” exclaimed Judy.
“Ugh!” shivered Sarah. “I feel just as if somebody was walking over my grave, Judith.”
“If they were walking over you, it mightn’t be amiss,” reprimanded Judith. “Don’t talk such stuff as that, girl, in the young mistress’s ears.”