"I can't say," returned Mr. Chattaway, significantly. "I think I'll go up and ask him," he added, in a sort of feverish impulse.
Without a moment's pause he hastened upstairs to Rupert's room. But the room was empty!
Mr. Chattaway stood transfixed. He had fully believed Rupert to be in bed, and the silent bed, impressed, seemed to mock him. A wild fear came over him that Rupert's pretence of going to bed had been a ruse—he had gone out to meet that dangerous stranger.
He flew down the stairs as one possessed; shouting "Rupert! Rupert!" The household stole forth to look at him, and the walls echoed the name. But from Rupert himself there came no answer. He was not in the Hold.
CHAPTER XXIV
A MEETING AT MARK CANHAM'S
Rupert's leaving the Hold, however, had been a very innocent matter. The evening sun was setting gloriously, and he thought he would stroll out for a few minutes before going to his room. When he reached the lodge he went in and flung himself down on the settle, opposite old Canham and his pipe.
"How's Madam?" asked the old man. "What an accident it might have been!"
"So it might," assented Rupert, "Madam will be better after a night's rest. Cris might have killed her. I wonder how he'd have felt then?"