"Half-past six!" repeated Mary, in surprise. "So late as that! No, I do not know whether papa is out or in. Perhaps he is busy in his parlour? There's Stephen: he may know. Stephen," she added, quitting the arm of Mr. Blake-Gordon, and advancing towards the man, "is papa below in his parlour?"
"There's no one in the parlour, ma'am, for I've been to look," was the answer. "I saw my master go up to his chamber some time ago, but I don't think he can be in it all this while."
"How long ago?"
"Just before you came home, ma'am."
"Oh, of course, your master cannot be there still," interposed Mrs. Webb, much interested in the colloquy, for she wanted her dinner frightfully. "He must have come down and gone out, Stephen."
"Very likely, ma'am."
"I am sure that Mr. Castlemaine has not come downstairs since we came in," observed Mr. Blake-Gordon. "If he had, I must have seen him. I have been here all the time."
Mary Ursula laughed. "I will tell you what it is," she said: "papa has dropped asleep on the sofa in his room. Twice lately he has done it when he has had a very tiring day." She ran lightly up the stairs as she spoke, and knocked at the chamber door. The lamp that hung in the corridor threw its light upon the oaken panels, and upon her gleaming blue dress.
"Papa!"
There was no response, and Mary gently turned the handle, intending to open the door about an inch, and call again. That her father was lying on the sofa in a sound sleep, she felt as sure of as though she had seen him. But the door would not open.