“We’ll look all over the garden. But if your mother had been in it she must have heard you calling her. I did, although I was inside there reading.”
“I know. I thought of that too,” returned Jimmy.
And Dion fancied that the boy’s voice was very cold; Dion fancied this but he was not sure. His conscience might be tricking him. He hoped that it was tricking him.
“We’d better look among the trees,” he said. “And then we’ll go to the terrace below.”
“It’s no use looking among the trees,” Jimmy returned. “If she was up here she must have heard us talking all this time.”
Abruptly he led the way to the steps near the plane tree. Dion followed him slowly. Was it possible that Jimmy had guessed? Was it possible that Jimmy had caught a glimpse of his mother escaping? The boy’s manner was surely almost hostile.
They searched the garden in silence, and at length found themselves by the fountain close to the French window of the drawing-room.
“You mother must be in the house,” said Dion firmly.
“But I know she isn’t!” Jimmy retorted, with a sort of dull fixed obstinacy.
“Did you rouse the servants?”