Sir Patrick hesitated. It was impossible to say—as matters stood at that moment—what distressing intelligence the two men might not have brought of the missing woman. Duncan’s return, accompanied by the station-master, looked serious. Blanche instantly penetrated the secret of her uncle’s hesitation. She turned pale, and caught him by the arm. “Don’t send me away,” she whispered. “I can bear any thing but suspense.”
“Out with it!” said Sir Patrick, holding his niece’s hand. “Is she found or not?”
“She’s gone by the up-train,” said the station-master. “And we know where.”
Sir Patrick breathed freely; Blanche’s color came back. In different ways, the relief to both of them was equally great.
“You had my orders to follow her,” said Sir Patrick to Duncan. “Why have you come back?”
“Your man is not to blame, Sir,” interposed the station-master. “The lady took the train at Kirkandrew.”
Sir Patrick started and looked at the station-master. “Ay? ay? The next station—the market-town. Inexcusably stupid of me. I never thought of that.”
“I took the liberty of telegraphing your description of the lady to Kirkandrew, Sir Patrick, in case of accidents.”
“I stand corrected, Mr. Murdoch. Your head, in this matter, has been the sharper head of the two. Well?”
“There’s the answer, Sir.”