“I believe that I was the last person to see the young gentleman,” replied Hester. “The fact is this, ma’am: I got a fright just between ten and eleven last night soon after the ball opened. I saw, or fancied I saw, a lady flitting about in the garden. You remember, ma’am, there was a moon, but there were lots of black clouds, and the light was always being shut away by the clouds going across the moon; but just for the minute it shone out quite bright, and I distinctly saw a woman running and stooping as she ran close to the laurel hedge. I seemed to recognise the dress, and I thought at once that poor Mrs. Cameron had got loose. I wanted to tell my master, for I knew it would be awful if she ran into the ball-room. I made an excuse to get into the room, hoping that Mr. Rowton might be somewhere within sight; but I only caught sight of Master Murray, and it occurred to me that I would ask him to help me.” “You did very wrong,” said Nancy; “you know, or you must know, that it is not safe for the boy to be with his mother. Well, go on, be quick.” “I had no time to think, madam, and besides, I am not supposed to know anything.” Hester made an effort to give her head its old pert toss. “I managed to get Master Murray out of the ball-room,” she continued, “and I asked him to run across to the wing and tell Leah at once that Mrs. Cameron had escaped. He ran off quite willingly. I gave him the key of the postern door, which opens into the Queen Anne garden.” “And the child has never come back? You must be making a mistake,” cried Nancy. “It is true, ma’am; alas! it is true,” sobbed Mrs. Ferguson. “I was over with Leah this morning, and she says she never saw the boy, and never heard him knock, and Mrs. Cameron did not escape at all last night, but at the very time that Hester fancied she saw her, was sound asleep in bed. Oh, I dread to think what has happened—burglars breaking into the house, and the child gone, kidnapped most like. Oh, the plate and jewels are nothing—it is the child.” “Yes; it is the child,” said Nancy. She had dressed herself now. The very magnitude and imminence of the catastrophe which had suddenly overtaken her, gave her a certain feeling of strength. She remembered that queer sense of being “fey” last night; she remembered the words which she had spoken to her husband. “Well,” she said, looking at the two terrified women, “you have done right to tell me; don’t be over frightened; try and keep yourselves calm. The boy will, of course, be found immediately. I’ll go now and tell Mr. Rowton.” She ran into the next room, but Rowton had already dressed and gone downstairs. The direful tidings had, of course, been broken to him by Vickers.