The Missioner Part 42

CHAPTER VIII

THE MISSING LETTY

Macheson knew directly they entered the farm that Wilhelmina had brought him here for some purpose. For Mrs. Foulton straightened herself at the sight of him, and forgot even her usual respectful courtesy to the lady of the Manor.

"I have brought Mr. Macheson to see you, Mrs. Foulton," Wilhelmina said.

"We want you to give us some tea--and there is a question which I think you ought to ask him."

The woman was trembling. She seemed for the moment to have no words.

"If you like," Wilhelmina continued calmly, "I will ask it for you. Did you know, Mr. Macheson, that Letty Foulton has left home and has gone away without a word to her mother?"

"I did not know it," Macheson answered gravely. "I am very sorry."

"You--didn't know it? You don't know where she is?" the woman demanded fiercely.

"Certainly not," Macheson answered. "How should I?"

The woman looked bewildered. She turned towards Wilhelmina as though for an explanation.

"Mr. Macheson has himself to blame," Wilhelmina said, "if his action in bringing your daughter to me that night has been misunderstood. At any rate, he cannot refuse to tell you now what he refused to tell me. You understand, Mr. Macheson," she added, turning towards him, "Mrs. Foulton insists upon knowing with whom you found her daughter having supper that night in London."

Macheson hesitated only for a moment.

"Your daughter was with Mr. Stephen Hurd, Mrs. Foulton," he said.

The woman threw her ap.r.o.n over her head and hastened away. They heard her sobbing in the kitchen. Wilhelmina shrugged her shoulders.

"What a bore!" she remarked. "We shan't get any tea. People of this sort have no self-control."

Macheson looked at her sternly.

"Have the people here," he asked, "been connecting me with this child's disappearance?"

"I suppose so," she answered carelessly. "Rather a new line for you, isn't it--the gay Lothario! It's your own fault. You shouldn't be so mysterious."

"You didn't believe it?" he said shortly.

"Why not? You've been--seeing life lately, haven't you?"

"You didn't believe it?" he repeated, keeping his eyes fixed upon her.

She came over to him and laid her hands upon his shoulders. Her pale face was upturned to his. It seemed open to him to transform her att.i.tude into a caress.

"Of course not, dear," she answered. "If--any one else did, they will soon know the truth."

"All the same," he muttered, "it's horrible. We must do something!"

She moved away from him wearily. His thoughts were full of the tragedy of Letty Foulton's disappearance. He seemed scarcely to know that she had been almost in his arms. He turned to her suddenly.

"I shall go back," he said, "to speak once more with Stephen Hurd."

She looked into his face and saw things there which terrified her. He had moved already towards the door, but she stood in his way.

"No!" she cried. "It is not your affair. Let me deal with him!"

He shook his head.

"It is no matter," he said, "for a woman to interfere in."

"He will not listen to you," she continued eagerly. "He will tell you that it is not your concern."

"It is the concern of every honest man," he interrupted. "You must please let me go!"

She was holding his arm, and she refused to withdraw her fingers. Then Mrs. Foulton intervened.

She had smoothed her hair and was carrying a tea-tray. They both looked at her as though fascinated.

"I hope I have not kept you waiting, madam," she said quietly. "I had to send Ruth up for the cream. The boy's at Loughborough market, and I'm a bit shorthanded."

"I--oh! I'm sorry you bothered about the tea, Mrs. Foulton," Wilhelmina said, with an effort. "But how good it looks! Come, Mr. Macheson! I don't know whether you've had any lunch, but I haven't. I'm perfectly ravenous."

"I've some sandwiches in my pocket," Macheson answered, moving slowly to the table, "but to tell you the truth, I'd forgotten them."

She drew off her gloves and seated herself before the teapot. All the time her eyes were fixed upon Macheson. She was feverishly anxious to have him also seat himself, and he could scarcely look away from the woman who, with a face like a mask, was calmly arranging the things from the tray upon the table. When she left the room he drew a little breath.

"Do they feel--really, these people," he asked, "or are they Stoics?"

"We feel through our nerves," she answered, "and they haven't many. Is that too much cream?--and pa.s.s the strawberry jam, please."

He ate and drank mechanically. The charm of this simple meal alone with her was gone--it seemed to him that there was tragedy in the arrangement of the table. She talked to him lightly, and he answered--what he scarcely knew. Suddenly he interposed a question.

"When did this girl Letty leave home?" he asked.

"I am not sure," she answered. "We will ask Mrs. Foulton."

Mrs. Foulton came silently in.

"We want to know, Mrs. Foulton, when Letty went away," Wilhelmina asked.

"A week ago to-morrow, madam," Mrs. Foulton answered. "Is there anything else you will be wanting?"

"Nothing, thank you," Wilhelmina answered, and then, seeing that the woman lingered, she continued:

"Are you wanting to get rid of us?"