Solomon is doubtful, but “master being master,” Solomon holds his hounds on past the stable, round the lambing-sheds and stackyard, to the front of the little three windows and a doored farm-house, without eliciting a whimper, no, not even from a babbler.
Just at this moment a passing cloud discharged a gentle shower over the scene, and when Solomon returned to pursue his inquiries in the fold-yard, the last vestige of scent had been effectually obliterated.
Mrs. Kidwell now stood watching the inquisitive proceedings if the party, searching now the hen-house, now the pigstye, now the ash-hole; and when Solomon tried the cow-house door, she observed carelessly: “Ah, that’s locked;” and he passed on to examine the straw-shed adjoining. All places were overhauled and scrutinized. At length, even Captain Nabley’s detective genius failed in suggesting where puss could be.
“Where did you see her last?” asked Mrs. Kidwell, with well-feigned ignorance.
“Why, we’ve not seen her for some time; but the hounds hunted her up to your very gate,” replied the Major.
“Deary me, how strange! and you’ve made nothin’ of her since?” observed she.
“Nothin’,” assented the Major, reluctantly.
“Very odd,” observed Mr. Catcheside, who was anxious for a kill.
“Never saw nothin’ like it,” asserted Mr. Rintoul, looking again into the pigstye.
“She must have doubled back,” suggested Mr. Nettlefold.