None knew. When the flames began to fade he was missed. He had gone—none knew where.
"Nine o'clock," said Parson Christian, turning his face toward home. "Sharp work, while it lasted, my lads!"
Then there was the sound of wheels, and Natt drove his trap to the gate of the mill-yard.
"You've just missed it, Natt," said John Proudfoot; "where have you been?"
"Driving the master to the train."
Hugh Ritson was standing by. Every one glanced from him to Natt.
"The train?—master? What do you mean? Who?"
"Who? Why, Master Paul," said Natt, with a curl of the lip. "I reckon it could scarce be Master Hugh."
"When? What train?" said Parson Christian.
"The eight o'clock to London."