But Reid, reckoning on his own personal strength perhaps, had no fear of his master. Nay, he seemed to take a sort of grim pleasure in irritating him, and after a few moments' silence he began on the subject of May Churchill's disappearance, of which he had just heard, the report not having yet reached Henderson's ears. "Well, ha' ye heard the last news?" he asked. "What news?" answered Henderson, sullenly. "About that bonnie lass fra' Woodside Farm--" "What!" cried Henderson, springing up erect, for he had been leaning against one of the stable stalls during the rest of this interview. "What do you say?" "It's just hearsay wi' me," replied Reid, "but I've been told that Miss Churchill's run away fra' home, and no one can hear tell of her." "I don't believe it; it's a lie," said Henderson, every particle of color dying out of his face. "It's just some confounded bit of gossip like the rest--but at all events I'll ride over and see. Saddle Bob for me, Reid." The groom proceeded leisurely to obey this order, while Henderson stood by impatient and excited. He kept repeating, "It's a lie; nothing but a lie;" but Reid could see that every limb of his body was quivering, and that the report had agitated him almost beyond control. The moment the horse was ready Henderson sprang on his back and galloped out of the stable yard. Nor did he draw rein until he reached Woodside Farm. Then he hastily dismounted, and after giving his horse in charge of one of the grooms, he strode to the house door and violently rang the bell. The maid who opened it said the master was out, but the mistress was in. "Can I see Mrs. Churchill?" asked Henderson, hoarsely. At this moment Mrs. Churchill herself appeared at the dining-room door. She had seen Henderson arrive from the window, and now went forward to receive him. "Good-afternoon, Mr. Henderson," she said, with extended hand. "Come in here. I suppose you have heard what has happened?" "About May?" gasped Henderson, who was pale and trembling in every limb. "Yes, about May," replied Mrs. Churchill, calmly. "May has behaved in the most extraordinary manner; she has run away from home." Henderson did not speak; he staggered against a chair; he grasped its back to support himself. "Mr. Churchill and I," continued Mrs. Churchill, still calmly, "had been away from home for a couple of days, to my place at Castle Hill, and when we returned the night before last, May had left a message with one of the boys that she had a headache, and had gone to bed. Well, yesterday morning she did not come down to breakfast, and I went upstairs to look after her. Her room was unoccupied, her bed had not been slept in; in fact, she had disappeared. Her father went at once to the station, and it appears from the station-master's account she started for London in the afternoon of the evening of our return. The whole thing had been planned beforehand."