“Well, she can’t have gone up the chimney, can she? At least, I suppose not, though you never can tell nowadays.”
He strode toward the bedroom door and called out:
“Clare!”
Then he went inside.
Mrs. Heywood stood watching the open door. She raised her hands up and then let them fall, and spoke in a hoarse kind of whisper:
“I think it has happened at last.”
Herbert came out of the bedroom again. He looked pale, and had gloomy eyes.
“It’s devilish queer!” he said.
Mother and son stood looking at each other, as though in the presence of tragedy.
“She must have gone out,” said Mrs. Hey-wood.