“You must not think of that,” he cried. “A wild unsettled country, and miles and miles, in all probability, to be done on horseback, and no certainty where to find him—if it is him—on one side of the continent or the other. For, you will see, none of them were taken. Not the chief person, who will doubtless be a very different sort of person, nor—any of the others. They will all be away from that place like the lightning. They will not bide to be put through an interrogatory or stand their trial. I will tell you what I will do. I will write to our correspondents most particularly. I will bid them employ the sharpest fellow they can find about there to follow him and run him down.”
“Run him down!” she cried, with a mixture of horror and indignation,—“my boy! You use words that are ill chosen and drive me out of my senses,” she added, with a certain dignity. “But you are well meaning, Mr Somerville, and not an injudicious person in business so far as I have seen. You will write to no correspondents. There must be sharp fellows here, and men that have been about the world. You will send one of them. If I go myself or not, I will take a little time to think; but without losing a day or a moment you will send one of them.”
“It will be a great expense, Mrs Ogilvy—and the other way would be better. I might even cable to our correspondents: that means telegraph. It’s another of their new-fangled words.”
“The one need not hinder the other. You can do both. Cable, as you call it——”
“It is very expensive,” he said.
“Man!” cried Mrs Ogilvy, towering over him, “what am I caring about expense?—expense! when it’s him that is in question. It will be the quickest way. Cable or telegraph, or whatever you call it; and since there’s nothing that can be done to-night, send the man wherever you may find him—to-morrow.”
“You go very fast,” he cried, panting as if for breath.
“And so would you, if it was your only son, your only child, that was in question. And I will think. I will perhaps set out to-morrow myself.”
“To-morrow is the Sabbath-day,” said Mr Somerville, with an indescribable sensation of relief.
This damped Mrs Ogilvy’s spirit for the moment. “It’s not that I would be kept back by the Sabbath-day,” she said; “for Him that was the Lord of the Sabbath, He just did more on that day than any other, healing and saving: and would He put it against me? Oh no! I ken Him too well for that. But since it’s not a lawful day for travelling, and there’s few trains and boats, send your cable to-night, Mr Somerville. Let that be done at least, if it is the only thing we can do.”