He turned back into the room; Donnelly waited for him below. In a few minutes Ross joined him, and they got into the cab. XVIII Mr. Solway descended from the train and walked briskly toward his car. The new chauffeur was standing there, stiff as a poker. “Well, Moss!” he said. “Everything all right, eh?” “Yes, thank you, sir,” said Ross. “That’s it!” said Mr. Solway, with his vague kindliness. He got into the car, and Ross started off through the sleet and the dark. Mr. Solway made two or three observations about the weather, but his chauffeur answered “Yes, sir,” “That’s so, sir,” rather absent-mindedly. He was, to tell the truth, very much preoccupied with his own thoughts. He was wondering how a pond was dragged, and how long such a thing might take. He had seen no one, spoken to no one, since he had left Donnelly at the police station and gone back to the garage alone. So he had had plenty of time to think. He stopped the car before the house, Mr. Solway got out, and Ross drove on to the garage. There would be a little more time for thinking before he was summoned to dinner. He went upstairs and sat down, stretched out in a chair, staring before him. He was still wearing the peaked cap which had belonged to Wheeler; perhaps it was not a becoming cap, for his face looked grim and harsh beneath it. He was not impatient, now, as that James Ross had been who had landed in New York three days ago. Indeed, he seemed almost inhumanly patient, as if he were willing to sit there forever. And that was how he felt. He had done his utmost; now he could only wait. The sleet was rattling against the windows, and a great wind blew. It must be a wild night, out in the fields, where a lonely little pond lay. A bad night to be in that little cottage. A bad night, anywhere in the world, for a child who had nobody. From his pocket he brought out a snapshot, and looked at it for a long time; then he tore it into fragments and let them flutter to the floor. He closed his eyes, then, but he was not asleep; the knuckles of his hand grasping the arm of the chair were white. No; he wasn’t asleep. When the telephone rang in the garage, he got up at once and went downstairs to answer it. “Dinner’s ready!” said Gracie’s voice. “Eddy come in yet?” “Not yet,” answered Ross. “But—wait a minute!” For he thought he heard some one at the door. He was standing with the receiver in his hand when the door slid open and Eddy came in. “He’s just—” he began, turning back to the telephone, when Eddy sprang forward and caught his arm, and whispered: “Shut up! Sh-h-h!” “Just about due,” said Ross to Gracie. Then he hung up the receiver and faced Eddy. “Don’t tell ’em I’m here!” said Eddy. “I—I don’t want—I c-can’t stand any—jabbering. I—Oh, Gawd!”