"Leave my house this instant. Not another word, sir, or I'll call my servants to my assistance!"
The stately old butler opened the front door for me, and assuming as dignified an air as was possible, considering that I was feeling the very reverse of calm, I went down the drive and passed out into the street.
When I reached home again Beckenham was out, for which I was not sorry as I wanted to have a good quiet think by myself. So lighting a cigar I pulled a chair into the verandah and fell to work. But I could make nothing of the situation, save that, by my interview this morning, my position with the father was, if possible, rendered even more hopeless than before. Who and what was this more fortunate suitor? Would it be any use my going to him and—but no, that was clearly impossible. Could I induce Phyllis to run away? That was possible, of course, but I rather doubted if she would care to take such an extreme step until every other means had proved unsuccessful. Then what was to be done? I began to wish that Beckenham would return in order that we might consult together.
Half-an-hour later our lunch was ready, but still no sign came of the youth. Where could he have got to? I waited an hour and then fell to work. Three o'clock arrived and still no sign—four, five, and even six. By this time I was in a fever of perplexity. I remembered the existence of the man who had followed us from Melbourne, and Beckenham's trusting good nature. Then and there I resolved, if he did not return before half-past seven, to set off for the nearest police station and have a search made for him. Slowly the large hand of the clock went round, and when, at the time stated, he had not appeared, I donned my hat, and, inquiring the way, set off for the home of the law.
