"Thank you, captain," he said. "My reason for asking the question is that
Mr. Henshaw, who has a room here, has not come in."
"Not come in?" Kelson repeated. "Too bad to keep you up, Mr. Dipper."
"Well, captain," said the landlord, "you see it is getting on for four o'clock, and we want to lock up. Of course if the ball was going on we should be prepared to keep open all night if necessary. But my drivers told me an hour ago it was over."
"So it was. I wonder"—Kelson turned to Gifford—"what can have become of the egregious Henshaw. I don't think, as I told you in the ball-room, I have seen him since ten o'clock."
Gifford shrugged. "Unless he has come across friends and gone off with them."
"He couldn't well do that without calling here for his things," Kelson objected. "I suppose he did not do that, unknown to you?" he asked the landlord.
"No, captain. His things are all laid out in his room, and the fire kept up as he ordered."
"Then I don't know what has become of him," Kelson returned, manifestly not interested in the subject. "I certainly should not keep open any longer. If Mr. Henshaw turns up at an unreasonable hour, let him wait and get in when he can. Don't you think so, Hugh?"
Gifford nodded. "I think, considering the hour, Mr. Dipper will be quite justified in locking up," he answered.
"Thank you, gentlemen; I will. Goodnight," and the landlord departed.