Mrs Wilton was less, for by the time the heavy bolts, lock, and bar had been undone, she was out of her room, and hurried to the balustrade to look down into the hall, paying no heed to the cool puff of wind that rushed upward and nearly extinguished the candle her husband had set down upon the marble table. "My own boy!" she sighed, as she saw Claud enter, and heard his words. "Thankye," he said. "Gone to bed soon." "The usual time, my boy," said Wilton, in very different tones to those he had used at their last meeting. "But haven't you brought her?" "Brought her?" "Yes; where's Kate?" "Fast asleep in bed by now, I suppose," said the young man sulkily. "Oh, but you should have brought her. Where have you come from?" "Fast train down. London. Didn't suppose I was going to stop here, did you, to be kicked?" "Don't say any more about that, my boy. It's all over now; but why didn't you bring her down?" "Oh, Claud, my boy, you shouldn't have left her like that." "Brought her down--Kate--shouldn't have left," said the young man, excitedly. "Here, what do you both mean?" "There, nonsense; what is the use of dissimulation now, my boy," said Wilton. "Of course we know, and--there--it's of no use to cry over spilt milk. We did not like it, and you shouldn't have both tried to throw dust in our eyes." "Look here, guv'nor, have you been to a dinner anywhere to-night?" "Absurd, sir. Stop this fooling. Where did you leave Kate?" "In bed and asleep, I suppose." "But--but where have you been, then?" "London, I tell you. Shouldn't have been back now, only I couldn't find Harry Dasent. He's off somewhere, so I thought I'd better come back. I say, is she all right again?" "I knew it! I knew it!" shrieked Mrs Wilton. "I said it from the first. Oh, James, James!--The pond--the pond! She's gone--she's gone!" "Who's gone?" stammered Claud, looking from father to mother, and back again. "Kate, dear; drowned--drowned," wailed Mrs Wilton. "What!" shouted Claud. "Look here, sir," said his father, catching him by the arm in a tremendous grip, as he raised the candle to gaze searchingly in his son's face; "let's have the truth at once. You're playing some game of your own to hide this--this escapade." "Guv'nor!" cried the young man, catching his father by the arm in turn; "put down that cursed candle; you'll burn my face. You don't mean to say the little thing has cut?" CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. James Wilton stood for a few moments staring searchingly at his son. Then, in a sudden access of anger, he rushed to the library door, flung it open, came back, caught the young man by the shoulders, and began to back him in. "Here, what are you doing, guv'nor? Leave off! Don't do that. Here, why don't you answer my question?" "Hold your tongue, idiot! Do you suppose I want all the servants to hear what is said? Go in there."