"Miss Lindsay, sir, has gone."
Mr. Spencer did what Mrs. Banyard had done--he echoed the butler.
"Gone! Gone where?"
Mrs. Banyard took it on herself to explain.
"The headstrong girl has gone to the station, and probably to London, and as she's left no address she's gone goodness only knows where. But I know--I understand perfectly well. She's got some Quixotic notion into her head, and because she's got it she's bent on suffering martyrdom, and she will too, if somebody doesn't stop her; though who for, or what for, nobody knows."
Mr. Spencer laughed, as if he thought the doctor's wife was joking; but he seemed to do it with an effort.
"If she's gone we'll find her, wherever she's gone; don't let your imagination paint any very frightful pictures, Mrs. Banyard. I'll undertake to find her, and save her from the martyrdom at which you hint--well, I'll be on the safe side, and say within four-and-twenty hours."
But he was undertaking more than he was able to perform.