Larkspur, for reasons of
his own, was anxious to see, he left her, and set off for the rectory.
He reached his destination before the return of the party who had gone
to search for the missing man. He mingled freely, almost unnoticed,
with the servants and the villagers who had crowded about the house and
lodges, and all he heard confirmed him in his belief that the worst had
happened, that Lionel Dale had, indeed, come by his death, either
through the successful contrivance of Carrington, or by an
extraordinary accident, coincident with his enemy's fell designs. Mr.
Larkspur asked a great many questions of several persons that night,
and as talking to a stranger helped the watchers and loiterers over
some of the time they had to drag through until the genuine
apprehension of some, and the curiosity of others, should be realized
or satisfied, he met with no rebuffs. But, on the other hand, neither
did he obtain any information of value. No stranger had been seen to
join the hunt that day, or noticed lurking about Hallgrove that
morning, and Mr. Larkspur's own reliable eyes had assured him that
Carrington was not among the recipients of the rector's hospitality on
Christmas-day. The footman, who had directed the unknown visitor by the
way past the stables to the lower road, did not remember that
circumstance and so it did not come to Mr.
Pages:
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504