"How did you lose him?" Mrs. Beaton asked. She steadied her voice as well as she could, but there was an angry light in her kind old eyes.
"I didn't lose him. He lost himself. He must have wandered away somewhere," said this exasperating woman, beginning to cry again. "We went to the police, and did all we could to find him, but we never caught a glimpse of him any more. After wearing myself out for nine weeks, I saw your notice in the Daily Telegraph, and then I thought you must have found him. I came here all in a hurry, with my heart full of hope."
There was nothing more to be extracted from her. It was clear that she had told all she could tell.
Elsie turned to Andrew with a look of distress more eloquent than words. As he met the sorrowful gaze of her beautiful dark eyes, a light seemed suddenly to flash from his, and he spoke out in a resolute tone.
"Don't be afraid that I shall let the grass grow under my feet, Miss Kilner. I shall go to Scotland Yard at once," he said, rising and buttoning his coat.
He merely lingered to ask Mrs. Penn a few rapid questions about the boy's dress and general appearance, and then the door closed behind him, and he was gone.
There was a moment of silence; then Elsie, rising from her chair, went over to Mrs. Beaton and kissed her.
"I am going home now," she whispered. "We won't despair yet. I shall try to be hopeful."
But her attempts at hopefulness were of little avail, and she hurried out of Wardour Street, holding her head down, crying as she went. She walked swiftly, never once slackening her speed till she had gained her own door. And inside the house she seemed to lose all courage and strength and faith, and fell sobbing into Miss Saxon's arms.
"Oh," she said, "it is all in vain! Jamie is lost, utterly lost, and only his angel knows where to find him!"