"Gone down the shaft but a short time before!" mechanically repeated Miss Diana in her horror. But she was interrupted by a cry from Ford. Mrs. Chattaway had fallen back on her seat in a fainting-fit.
CHAPTER XXXII
A SHOCK FOR MR. CHATTAWAY
The brightness of the day was turning to gloom, as if the heavens sympathised with the melancholy scene upon earth. Quietly pushing his way through the confusion, moans and lamentations, the mass of human beings surrounding the mouth of the pit, was a tall individual whose acquaintance you have made before. It was Mr. Daw with his red umbrella: the latter an unvarying appendage, whether the sun was shining or the clouds dropped rain. He went straight up to certain pale faces lying there in a row, and glanced at them one by one.
"They are saying that Rupert Trevlyn is amongst the sufferers," he observed to those nearest to him.
"So he is, master."
"I do not see him here."
"No; he ain't up yet."
"Is there no hope that he may be brought to the surface alive?"