She went upstairs. Her intention was to look in at the nursery and satisfy herself that all was well with William Bannister. She had given Mamie specific instructions as to his care on her departure; but you never knew. Perhaps her keen eye might be able to detect some deviation from the rules she had laid down.
It detected one at once. The nursery was empty. According to schedule, the child should have been taking his bath.
She went downstairs again. Keggs was waiting in the hall. He had foreseen this return. He had allowed her to go upstairs with his story but half heard because that appealed to his artistic sense. This story, to his mind, was too good to be bolted at a sitting; it was the ideal serial.
“Keggs.”
“Madam?”
“Where is Master William?”
“I fear I do not know, madam.”
“When did he go out? It is seven o’clock; he should have been in an hour ago.”
“I have been making inquiries, madam, and I regret to inform you that nobody appears to have seen Master William all day.”
“What?”