CHAPTER XXXIVTHE FLIGHT OF PHYLLIS
Phyllis Lane, on reaching home, went at once to bed. The next morning she did not come down, so Mrs. Ransom went up to her room—to find the door locked.
As she could get no answer, though she called a number of times, she informed the Colonel.
“Let her alone,” he said. “She is in a temper, that is all. Let her stay all day. It will do her good.”
Mrs. Ransom, who had had some experience of the “tantrums” of Miss Phyllis, followed the Colonel’s advice, but when evening came and Phyllis did not appear, she got anxious. “The poor child must be starving,” she said.
Then Colonel Lane went himself and knocked loudly and called without obtaining an answer.
Then he put his shoulder to the door and burst it open.
The room was empty.
Consternation and fear took possession of him. He reproached himself bitterly for his harshness.
Phyllis was so erratic, what might she not have done?
“She may be at Hawk’s Nest,” he said, but he did not believe it. His heart sank, and fear possessed him such as he had never felt on the battlefield. What might not a wilful, excitable girl like Phyllis do?
“I will go to Hawk’s Nest, Mrs. Ransom,” Colonel Lane said in a strange voice. “Don’t let the servants know anything—unless it is inevitable.”
In the meantime Mrs. Barrimore was much exercised in spirit. Things appeared to be all going wrong. Uncle Robert had put away the copies of his book, and refused to speak of it.
Philip had sent a letter, which she found to be only a line to say he was starting at once for London, and had no time to come in. A letter was enclosed for Phyllis, with the instruction that it should be given into her own hand. Added to that there were the underlined words:—
“I can trust you, mother, regarding this letter for Phyllis. I don’t want it mentioned.”
“I can trust you, mother, regarding this letter for Phyllis. I don’t want it mentioned.”
Mrs. Barrimore was arranging chrysanthemums in her flower-vases when Colonel Lane was announced.Mr.Burns had gone out to change some books at Brown and Woodley’s library.
A glance was sufficient for the woman who loved, to see that the old Colonel was well-nigh heart-broken.
“My dear friend!” she exclaimed, putting out both her hands to him and searching his face with agonized eyes, “what is it?”
Two tears stole down the strong, almost severe face of the soldier, which caused Annie’s own tears to gush forth.
“Tell me, dearest! tell me!” she pleaded.
“Phyllis has run away, Annie!” he told her, making a great effort to control himself.
Mrs. Barrimore thought of the letter in her pocket, but she could not betray Philip.
“I found out—accidentally—that she and Philipwere lovers,” he said firmly. “I went over to the bungalow when I left you. Phyllis was there—hiding like a common housemaid—in Philip’s bedroom. There was a scene. I brought Phyllis home. She went to her room and would not come out. I left her there, as I thought, to get over her temper. This morning I forced the door. She was gone. I must go over and see Philip.”
“Philip has left suddenly for London,” gasped Mrs. Barrimore.
“Then she is gone with him!” cried the Colonel.
“I am sure she has not,” said Mrs. Barrimore hastily.
“How can you be sure, dear?” he asked her hopelessly.
“Iamsure, and I can’t tell you why,” she said, trembling.
How could Philip leave a letter for Phyllis if she were with him?
At that momentMr.Burns came in, one arm full of library books.
“I say, Lane!” he broke out in his usual blustery fashion, “I would not let Phyllis go on the East Hill alone in the evening if I were you.”
“Phyllis! on the East Hill!Whenwas she there?” demanded the Colonel.
“She went up by the lift quite late last night. I heard it remarked upon in the town, I am sorry to say. I thought you ought to know. Phyllis is a dear little girl, but she does too much as she likes. She is a bit of a handful, I know.”
“Burns, Phyllis has run away,” groaned the father.
“Run away? Nonsense!” exclaimed Uncle Robert. “Even Phyllis would draw the line at that.”
“It is true, nevertheless,” said the Colonel. “Whatare we to do? I don’t want to set all Hastings talking, yet I must make inquiries.”
“I think she will come back of her own accord,” said Uncle Robert. “She will soon have enough of it. What made her do it?”
Colonel Lane repeated what he had told Mrs. Barrimore, and Mrs. Barrimore told her brother of Philip’s sudden departure for London.
“Phyllis may have known Philip was going, if we did not,” saidMr.Burns.
“I believe they have gone together,” affirmed the Colonel. “But what was she doing on the East Hill at night? It is so lonely—dangerous even.”
Mrs. Barrimore turned her head away. Her face had become ashen. She recalled the incident of a woman’s body being picked up on the rocks below that cliff.
Mr.Burns all at once took the reins in his own hands.
“Look here, Lane. First of all, we will send guarded wires with prepaid replies to all your friends to ask if Phyllis is there. If we find she has gone to none of them, we will wire Philip at the Savage Club. If that fails, we must at once go to the police. I am sure the girl would not go to any of our Hastings acquaintances, and if we went round inquiring of them, we should only make a scandal. Don’t you worry! I’ll see to it all for you. Really, I shall scold Phyllis myself when I do find her—a thing I have never done. I am surprised at Philip! He is much to blame. He knows quite well what Phyllis is, and he did very wrong to encourage her. He has no notion of marrying her, I am certain.”
Colonel Lane stared vacantly in front of him. At last he said:
“It is no good wiring to Philip.”
“Why?” inquired Uncle Robert.
“Because he lied to me when I was at the bungalow. He said the last time Phyllis had been there was a week ago. She was in his bedroom then—his bedroom! Think of it!”
“He may not have known it,” murmured the mother.
“Of course he knew it,” pronounced the Colonel.
There was an awkward, a dismal silence.
Then Uncle Robert spoke:
“Did Phyllis take any luggage?”
“I don’t know. I came straight here when I found her room empty,” said the Colonel.
“You ought to have examined the room. There may have been a letter. These romantic girls always leave a letter—on the pin-cushion, I believe,” said Uncle Robert. “But I will send the wires, if you will give me likely addresses.”
Colonel Lane gave several, but remarked bitterly: “If she meant to get away from me—her father—she would not go where I could easily find her. But send the wires.”
“And you and I will go and examine her room,” said Mrs. Barrimore.
The pretty bed-chamber of Phyllis was littered with odds and ends which a careless girl throws about, but there was no sign of packing. The bed had not been slept in. There was no letter to be found. Colonel Lane dropped into a chair and sat with his chin on his breast. Mrs. Barrimore laid a gentle hand on his, but he did not heed it.
Mrs. Ransom came in with some wine, but Colonel Lane waved her angrily away.
“Come home with me, dear,” whispered Mrs. Barrimore.
He rose and followed her like a child.
“Upon my word!” ejaculated Mrs. Ransom, as she saw them depart. “Miss Phyllis ought to be downright ashamed of herself!”
The answers to the telegrams came. No one had seen Phyllis.
Then Uncle Robert went to the police.
In the meantime Davis had given a spirited account of the “row” to Pickett, who had merely laughed.
“So the old Colonel didn’t know!” he remarked. “Young folks are pretty artful!”
It was from Minnie Pickett that Thomas Alvin heard of the disturbance.
Eweretta had held her peace till then. But as her uncle gave Minnie’s version to her and Mrs. Le Breton, she spoke up.
“There was no love affair between them at all,” she said. “Philip told me the truth. I know he told me the truth. Miss Lane treated him as a brother. They had known each other from children. She took her little troubles to him. That was all.”
By the following night it was known all over Hastings that Miss Lane had run away.
It was known, too, that Philip Barrimore had gone away.
Mrs. Hannington, who had been over to Pickett’s Farm, was quite tired out; she had called on everyone she knew to impart the amazing news thatMr.Barrimore and Miss Lane had gone off together!
No reply had come from Philip to the wire his uncle had sent. He had not been to the Savage Club, and he knew nothing. He was too angry to write home, and no one knew his address.