"Calm yourself, Colonel Butler," I enjoined.
Indeed I might as profitably have addressed the advice to myself. It was time for some one to keep his head. I was thinking only of Phyllida and the effect that another shock might have upon her. She was already so much overwrought, sobbing her heart out when any of us could have told her that there was nothing to cry about...
"We've been searching high and low," said Colonel Butler. "Lord Brackenbury told me that she suddenly bolted into the night. We haven't dared shout for fear of frightening her away... What's it all about? In the name of God, what can have happened to her?"
"If you stay here," I said, "I will find her for you."
"But do you know where she is?," he cried in great excitement. "I must come too."
"Won't you trust my judgement, Colonel Butler?," I asked.
He hesitated for a moment and then said:
"Of course I will. You've been a jolly good friend to me. But for pity's sake go at once; I can't stand much more."
"If you know where the others are," I suggested, "you might employ your time in finding them."
Then I set off down the drive once more. I walked on the grass, but, on reaching the laurel-clump, I gave a little cough to apprise them of my presence. Poor Phyllida was so much overwrought that she started to her feet like a frightened animal. (She had been lying with her face in her arms, while Will stroked her hair and whispered such little words of comfort as came into his head.)