“Oh, Blenkinson’s theory be damned,” growled Crofts impatiently; “but don’t tell him I said so. Fetch the whiskey.”
The servant dashed for the door, and it was Toby who brought in the decanter and glasses.
It is now 2.30 P.M.
An hour ago it was clear and mild; then the mist redoubled and a chill came into the air, something we have not experienced before by day.
She has not returned. I shall try to organize a searching party at once, and if no one else regards the situation seriously, I’ll go alone to find her.
XXIV.
Bannerlee’s Secret
2.45 P.M.
Salt shared my perturbation. Indeed, he adopted the idea of a searching expedition with such alacrity and energy that one might suppose Miss Lebetwood to be fleeing from justice!
There were some bitter things said of her, though, by those, even, who volunteered readiest for the search. Repressed criticisms of her seemingly callous behaviour since Cosgrove’s death outcropped now. I stood by, a coward, for hot answers rose to my lips and I suppressed them. I remembered that from these hostile thoughts, thoughts more sinister might spring.
Just as they were going, I observed that Maryvale was not present. (Aire, too, was not among us.) Tenney volunteered the information, gained from Harmony, that Maryvale has again locked himself in his room. Seeking admittance in her morning round of the bedrooms, she found the door fastened and received a gruff intimation that she need not trouble to knock again until further notice.