But after a while he heard a shout, then
another, and then two men came running towards him, as fast as they
could in the darkness. Douglas Dale knew them both, and called out,
"What is it, Freeman? What is it, Carey? Bad news, I fear."
"Yes, Mr. Douglas, bad news. We've found the rector's hunting-whip."
"Where?" stammered Douglas.
"Below the bridge, sir, close by the ash-tree; and the bank is broken.
I'm afraid it's all up, sir; if he went in there, the horse and he are
both gone, sir."
Like a man walking in a dream, Douglas Dale accompanied the bearers of
the evil tidings to the spot where the group of searchers was collected
together. In the midst stood Squire Mordaunt, holding in his hand a
heavy hunting-whip, which all present recognized, and many had seen in
the rector's hand only that morning. They all made way for Douglas
Dale; they were very silent now, and hopeless conviction was on every
face.
"This makes it too plain, Douglas," said Squire Mordaunt, as he handed
the whip to the rector's brother; "bear it as well as you can, my dear
fellow. There's nothing to be done now till daylight."
"Nothing more?" said Reginald, while Douglas covered his face, and
groaned in unrestrained anguish; "the drags can surely be used? the--"
"Wait a minute, Sir Reginald," said the squire, holding up his hand;
"of course your impatience is very natural, but it would only defeat
itself.
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