Hornung Ernest William - A Bride from the Bush стр 35.

Dearest Glad, We are so disappointed, you cant think. As for me, Ive been in the sulks ever since your telegram came this afternoon. What ever can have prevented your coming, at the very last minute for your wire from Liverpool Street ? Do write at once, for Im horribly anxious, to your loving

Ada.

PS. And do come at once, if its nothing serious.

Saturday.

He folded the letter, restored it to its envelope, and put the envelope in his pocket. Then he looked at the clock. It wanted a quarter to eight. The Judge was no doubt up and about somewhere; but none of the others were down. Alfred rang the bell, and left word that he had received a letter begging an early interview on important business, and that he would breakfast in town.

Alfred was stunned; but he had formed a plan. This plan he proceeded to put into effect; or rather, once formed, the plan evolved itself into mechanical action without further thought. For some hours following he did not perfectly realise either what he was doing or why he was doing it. He never thoroughly pulled himself together, until a country conveyance, rattling him through country lanes, whisked into a wooded drive, and presently past a lawn where people were playing lawn-tennis, and so to the steps of a square, solid, country house. But he had all his wits about him, and those sharpened to the finest possible point, when he looked to see whether Gladys was, or was not, among the girls on the lawn. She was not. That was settled. He got out and rang the bell. He inquired for Mr Barrington; Mr Barrington was playing at lawn-tennis. In answer to a question from the butler, Bligh said that he would rather see Mr Barrington in the house than go to him on the tennis-court. He could wait until the set was finished. He had come from London expressly to speak for a few minutes with Mr Barrington. His name would keep until Mr Barrington came; but he was from Australia.

The last piece of information was calculated to fetch Mr Barrington at once; and it did. He came as he was, in his flannels, his thick hairy arms bare to the elbow: a bronzed, leonine man of fifty, with the hearty, hospitable manner of the Colonial squatocracy. Alfred explained in a few words who he was, and why he had come. He had but one or two questions to ask, and he asked them with perfect self-possession. They elicited the assurance that nothing had been heard of Gladys in that quarter, beyond the brief message received on the Saturday. Mr Barrington found the telegram, and handed it to his visitor. It read: Prevented coming at last moment. Am writing Gladys. By the time of despatch, Bligh knew that it was the message she had written out in his presence.

Of course she never wrote? he said coolly to the squatter.

We have received nothing, was the grave answer.

Yet she started, said Alfred. I put her in the train myself, and saw her off.

His composure was incredible. The Australian was more shaken than he.

Did you make any inquiries on the line? asked Barrington, after a pause.

Inquiries about what?

There might have been an accident.

Bligh tapped the telegram with his finger. This points to no accident, he said, grimly. But, he added, more thoughtfully, one might make inquiries down the line, as you say. It might do good to make inquiries all along the line.

Do you mean to say you have made none ?

None, said Alfred, fetching a deep sigh. I came here straight. I could think of nothing else but getting here and perhaps finding her! I thought I thought there might be some mistake! His voice suddenly broke. The futility of the hope that had sustained him for hours had dawned upon him slowly, but now the cruel light hid nothing any longer. She was not here; she had not been heard of here; and precious hours had been lost. He grasped his hat and held out his trembling hand.

Thank you! Thank you, Mr Barrington! Now I must be off.

Where to?

To Scotland Yard. I should have gone there first. But I was mad, I think; I thought there had been some mistake. Only some mistake!

The squatter was touched to the soul. I have known her, off and on, since she was a baby, he said. Bligh if you would only let me, I should like to come with you.

Alfred wrung the others hand, but refused his offer.

No. Though I am grateful indeed, I would rather go alone. It would do no good, your coming; I should prefer to be alone. So only one word more. Your daughter was a great friend of Gladys; better not tell her anything of this. For it may still be only some wild freak, Mr Barrington God knows what it is!

It was evening when he reached London. A whole day had been wasted. He stated his case to the police; and then there was no more to be done that night. With an eagerness that all at once became feverish he hastened back to Twickenham. It was late when he arrived at the house; only Granville was up; and, for an instant, Granville thought his brother had been drinking. The delusion lasted no longer than that instant. It was not drink with Alfred: his excitement was suppressed: he stood staring at Granville with a questioning, eager expression, as though he expected news. What could it mean? What could be the explanation of such fierce excitement in stolid Alfred, of all people in the world?