Chapter XIII: Missing

AT half-past eight Archie reached his home, feeling altogether guilty and uncomfortable. Pride had prevented his returning sooner, otherwise he would undoubtedly have found his way back before Church time. As anger died away, he became sorry for his mother and vexed with himself.

"Well, well—I'll make it up to her now," thought Archie, as he tried to lift the latch.

But the door was fast locked.

This seemed odd. Had Mrs. Stuart gone for a walk so late? She was not in the habit of thus doing, even with Archie for a companion; still less alone.

But the door was unmistakably locked. Archie rapped at the window, and had no response. He could see nothing within, through white blinds and flowering plants, beyond a faint glimmer of firelight.

Was Mrs. Stuart really out? Or did she wish to refuse admittance to her boy?

Somehow Archie could not accept the latter supposition. More likely, on her return from Church, she had gone to a neighbour to inquire after Archie's own whereabouts.

He began to feel thoroughly annoyed and regretful at having stayed absent so many hours.

Well, no doubt she would return in a few minutes. Archie tried the door afresh, without avail. Then he walked up and down the street, keeping watch. He asked one or two women whether they had seen Mrs. Stuart go out, but they had not; and he did not pursue the inquiry. He was not anxious that the uncomfortable state of affairs between his mother and himself should become known.

Thirty minutes passed. Nine strokes from the Church clock sounded solemnly.

This would never do. Archie went once more to the door, and struggled with it, but to no purpose.

Then he directed his efforts towards the window, which—being happily held by a crazy hasp—he succeeded at length in forcing open.

Entrance had now become easy. Archie pushed aside a few plants, and scrambled in—two or three small boys watching his proceedings from the pavement, and commenting thereon with interjections of "O my!"

The room was nearly dark; but Archie could see its emptiness. He went out into the passage, then to the kitchen, lastly upstairs, searching carefully. All in vain. No human being except himself was under the roof.

A feeling of great perplexity and trouble crept over Archie. He could not at all understand what this meant. Had he found his mother at home, vexed and silent still, he would not have been surprised; but to find no mother at all awaiting his return did startle him sorely.

It was plain that Mrs. Stuart had gone somewhere, locking the front door, and taking the key away with her; for Archie found no key within. When thoroughly convinced of her absence, he had to make his exit by the same mode as that by which he had entered. Derisive exclamations from the group of small boys greeted his reappearance through the window. Archie was in no mood to care for laughter. He passed them by, and began a series of close inquiries, speaking to one neighbour after another.

These inquiries were not without results. In a few minutes Archie learnt that his mother had not gone to Church. She had been seen to come out, dressed as usual, a short time after the bells ceased, and to set off, walking hurriedly, in just the other direction.

"I spoke to her, and she didn't answer," one woman said. "Seemed to me some'at had worried her. She looked queer-like. But she never do like to be asked nothing. I saw her go along the road, all of a scurry, and turn to the left there—towards the brick-fields."

Archie followed the clue thus obtained. By dint of further inquiries, he traced her steps all along the road "to the left," and down a lane beyond, as far as the very border of the brick-fields.

There evidence failed, and he came to a pause. It was not likely that Mrs. Stuart should have actually crossed those flat dull fields, with their piled up rows of bricks. Archie had indeed himself taken a solitary ramble round them that afternoon, brooding over the condition of things; but it seemed highly improbable that his mother should have done the same.

"She's not there," he said aloud, gazing over the uninteresting expanse. He turned back into Littleburgh, to call at cottage after cottage where his mother was known, and where she might have gone. But nobody could tell him any news of Mrs. Stuart. He returned home once more, only to find the door still locked, and nobody to welcome him.

Archie's trouble was becoming now very real indeed. He went at last to the Dunns, and told his story; and Nancy's face of sympathy brought the first scrap of comfort.

"I'll go with you, lad," Dunn said at once. "We'll hunt till we find her—please God. But you'll take a mouthful of something to eat first."

Archie did not feel as if he could eat—till he tried. Then he found how much he had been in need of refreshment. While hastily disposing of what was put before him, he recounted what he had already done.

"That's right. You're looking more up to the mark now," said Dunn. "I'll tell you what, lad—my wife shall go to your house, and make up the kitchen fire, and see that there's boiling water against it's wanted. And you and I'll go and take a look at the brick-fields."

"But what's the use? Why, she'd never dream of staying alone there all this while," protested Archie.

"Maybe not. Best to make sure, any way," said Dunn. "She was seen to go there, and she wasn't seen to come back. And where else can she be?"

Archie shook his head.

"You see, now! Best to make sure," repeated Dunn. "She may be all right and safe in somebody's house. But if she did take a fancy to go into the brick-fields, why, she might have tumbled down somewhere and stunned herself. I don't see why not. Are there any sort of deep holes or quarries anywhere about?"

"Nothing of the sort," averred Archie. "It's all flat."

"So much the better," said Dunn. "But anyhow we'll go and look."

Which they did—Susan Dunn accompanying them part of the way, as far as Mrs. Stuart's cottage. It was rather a puzzle how to get her indoors, till they found that the front door key of Woodbine Cottage would open the locked door.

"I'll be sure to have everything comfortable," Susan Dunn said kindly. "I shouldn't think Mrs. Stuart could mind. I do hope you'll find her soon, all safe and sound."