The shadows were fast creeping over the Common. At the woodside it was already twilight. The whole of the western sky right up to the zenith was a finely shaded study in brilliant orange and yellow. "More rain," I thought instinctively, and paused for a moment to watch the sunset. The black distance stood clearly silhouetted against the sky. One could discern the sharp outline of tiny trees on the distant horizon. We met Heathcote and several other men in the lane. "Shan't be able to do much to-night, sir," said Heathcote. "It'll be dark in 'alf an hour, sir." "Well, do what you can in half an hour," replied Challis, and to me he said, "You'd better come back with me. We've done what we can." I had a picture of him then as the magnate; I had hardly thought of him in that light before. The arduous work of the search he could delegate to his inferiors. Still, he had come out himself, and I doubt not that he had been altogether charming to the bewildered, distraught mother. I acquiesced in his suggestion. I was beginning to feel very tired. Mrs. Heathcote was at the gate when we arrived at the Court. "'Ave they found 'im, sir?" she asked. "Not yet," replied Challis. I followed him into the house. IV As I walked back at ten o'clock it was raining steadily. I had refused the offer of a trap. I went through the dark and sodden wood, and lingered and listened. The persistent tap, tap, tap of the rain on the leaves irritated me. How could one hear while that noise was going on? There was no other sound. There was not a breath of wind. Only that perpetual tap, tap, tap, patter, patter, drip, tap, tap. It seemed as if it might go on through eternity.... I went to the Stotts' cottage, though I knew there could be no news. Challis had given strict instructions that any news should be brought to him immediately. If it was bad news it was to be brought to him before the mother was told. There was a light burning in the cottage, and the door was set wide open. I went up to the door but I did not go in. Ellen Mary was sitting in a high chair, her hands clasped together, and she rocked continually to and fro. She made no sound; she merely rocked herself with a steady, regular persistence. She did not see me standing at the open door, and I moved quietly away. As I walked over the Common--I avoided the wood deliberately--I wondered what was the human limit of endurance. I wondered whether Ellen Mary had not reached that limit. Mrs. Berridge had not gone to bed, and there were some visitors in the kitchen. I heard them talking. Mrs. Berridge came out when I opened the front door. "Any news, sir?" she asked. "No; no news," I said. I had been about to ask her the same question. V I did not go to sleep for some time. I had a picture of Ellen Mary before my eyes, and I could still hear that steady pat, patter, drip, of the rain on the beech leaves.