“You don’t say so! Where on earth has she gone?”
“I can’t say, sir, but it’s plain enough she is missing. Hasn’t been seen since last night when she went up to her room.”
I was put out, I own; my man on waking me had informed me that the cook was missing; she had gone to bed without anything being noticed amiss, and was now nowhere to be found. She was always an odd woman, but a capital cook. What had become of her? The very last sort of person to disappear in this way—a respectable elderly Scotchwoman—really quite a treasure in the country; and the more I thought of it while I dressed, the more puzzled I became. I hardly liked to send for the police; and then again it was awkward, very—people coming to dinner that day. It was really too bad.
But I had scarcely finished dressing when in rushed my man again. I do so dislike people being excited, and he was more than excited.
“Please, sir, Mr. Vend has come round to see you; his coachman has gone—went off in the night, and hasn’t left a trace behind, and they say the gardener’s boy is with him.”
“Well,” said I, “it is extraordinary; tell Mr. Vend I’m coming; stay, I’ll go at once.”
It was really past belief—the three of them! After an hour’s talk with Vend, no explanation offered itself, so we decided to go to town as usual.
We walked down to the station, and saw at once something was wrong. Old Weeks, the stationmaster, was quite upset: his pointsman was missing, and the one porter had to take up his duty. However, the train coming up, we had no time to question him, but jumped in. There were three other people in the compartment, and really I thought I was going off my head when I heard what they were discussing. Vend, too, didn’t seem to know if he was on his head or his heels. It was this that startled us so: “What can have become of them all?”
I heard no more. I really believe I swooned, but at the next station—a large one—we saw consternation on every face. I pinched myself to see if I was dreaming. I tried to persuade myself I was. Vend looked ghastly. A passenger got in; he did not look quite so dazed as some did, but savage and cross. For a time none spoke; at last someone said aloud—I don’t think he expected an answer—
“What on earth’s become of them?” and the cross looking man, who got in last, growled out,