"Good morning, Miss Diana."
They turned to behold George Ryle. He had come up thus early to know if they had news of Rupert. The scared expression of their faces struck him that something was wrong.
"You have bad news, I see. What is it?"
Miss Diana rapidly turned over a question in her mind. Should she mention this report to George? Yes; he was thoroughly trustworthy; and might be of use.
"Hatch came in a few minutes ago, and frightened us very greatly," she said. "I was just telling Cris about it. The man says there's a report going about that Rupert is—is"—she scarcely liked to bring out the word—"is dead."
"What?" uttered George.
"That he has been killed—murdered," continued Miss Diana. "George, I want to get at the truth of it."
He could not rejoin just at first. News, such as that, takes time to revolve. He could only look at them alternately; his heart, for Rupert's sake, beating fast. Miss Diana repeated what Hatch had said. "George," she concluded, "I cannot go after these men, examining into the truth or falsehood of the report, but you might."
George started away impulsively ere she had well spoken. Hatch mentioned the names of the men who had been talking, and George hastened to look for them over the fields. Cris was following, but Miss Diana caught him by the arm.
"Not you, Cris; stop where you are."