Trevlyn Hold: A Novel

by Mrs. Henry Wood

"Jim Sanders's word!" repeated Nora, who as yet had not heard of Jim in connection with the affair. "What has Jim to do with it?"

Mrs. Chattaway explained. She mentioned all that was said to have passed, Bridget's declaration, and her own miserable conviction that it was but too true. She just spoke of the suspicion cast on Jim by several doubters, but in a manner which proved the suspicion had no weight with her: and she told of his disappearance from the scene. "I was on my way to search for him," she continued; "but I don't know where to search. Oh, Nora, won't you help me? I would kneel to Jim, and implore him not to come forward against Rupert; I will be ever kind to Jim, and look after his welfare, if he will only hear me! I will try to bring him on in life."

Nora, impulsive as Mrs. Chattaway, but with greater calmness of mind and strength of judgment, turned without a word. From that moment she entered heart and soul into the plot. If Jim Sanders could be kept back by mortal means, Nora would keep him. She revolved matters rapidly in her mind as she went along, but had not proceeded many steps when she halted, and laid her hand on the arm of her companion.

"I had better go alone about this business, Madam Chattaway. If you'll trust to me, it shall be done—if it can be done. You'll catch your death, coming out with nothing on, this cold night: and I'm not sure that it would be well for you to be seen in it."

"I must go on, Nora," was the earnest answer. "I cannot rest until I have found Jim. As to catching cold, I have been standing in the open air since the fire broke out, and have not known whether it was cold or hot. I am too feverish to-night for any cold to affect me."

Nevertheless, she untied her black silk apron, and folded it over her head, concealing all her fair falling curls. Nora made no further remonstrance.

The most obvious place to look for Jim was his own home; at least so it occurred to Nora. Jim had the honour of residing with his mother in a lonely three-cornered cottage, which boasted two rooms and a loft. It was a good step to it, and they walked swiftly, exchanging a sentence now and then in hushed tones. As they came within view of it, Nora's quick sight detected the head (generally a very untidy one) of Mrs. Sanders, airing itself at the open door.

"You halt here, Madam Chattaway," she whispered, pointing to a friendly hedge, "and let me go on and feel my way with her. She'll be a great deal more difficult to deal with than Jim; and the more I reflect, the more I am convinced it will not do for you to be seen in it."

So far, Mrs. Chattaway acquiesced. She remained under cover of the hedge, and Nora went on alone. But when she had really gained the door, it was shut; no one was there. She lifted the old-fashioned wooden latch, and entered. The door had no other fastening; strange as that fact may sound to dwellers in towns. The woman had backed against the further wall, and was staring at the intruder with a face of dread. Keen Nora noted the signs, drew a very natural deduction, and shaped her tactics accordingly.

"Where's Jim?" began she, in decisive but not unkindly tones.