Jeffreys sank down on his bed in an agony of terror and suspense. The boy’s cry resounded in his ears and deafened him, till at last he could endure it no longer.
Next morning, when the school was gathered in the hall, after prayers, Mr Frampton, looking round him, missed the figure that was uppermost in his thoughts.
“Will some one tell Jeffreys to come here?” he said.
Mr Freshfield went, but returned suddenly to announce that Jeffreys’ study was empty, and that a rope formed of sheets suspended from his window made it evident he had escaped in the night and quitted Bolsover.
Chapter Four.
Gone Again.
On the evening following Jeffreys’ departure from Bolsover, a middle-aged, handsome gentleman was sitting in his comfortable study in the city of York, whistling pleasantly to himself.
The house in which he lived was a small one, yet roomy enough for an old bachelor. And what it wanted in size it made up for in the elegance and luxury of its furniture and adornments.