“There’s Miss Sandys to see you, sir.”
The rector rose and, rather surprised, ordered his visitor to be shown in.
Next moment from the square stone hall the pretty young girl, warmly clad in furs, entered the room.
She met the eyes of the grey old man, and after a second’s pause said:
“I have to apologise for this intrusion, Mr Homfray, but—well, I have seen in the paper that your son is missing. He went out on Sunday night, it is said, and has not been seen since.”
“That is so, Miss Sandys,” replied the old man, offering her a chair beside the fire. “As you may imagine, I am greatly concerned at his disappearance.”
“Naturally. But I have come here, Mr Homfray, to speak to you in confidence,” said the girl hesitatingly. “Your son and I were acquainted, and—”
“I was not aware of that, Miss Sandys,” exclaimed the rector, interrupting her.
“No. I do not expect that he told you. My father does not know either. But we met quite casually the other day, and last Sunday we again met accidentally after church and he walked home with me. I suppose it was half-past nine when we parted.”
“There was no reason why he should not return home, I suppose?” asked Mr Homfray eagerly.