We were sitting round Master Peter, listening to an account he was
giving us of a trip he once made, when a midshipman, through Palestine,
when the drawing-room door opened, and Mrs Moss, little Hugh's nurse,
appeared, to beg that he might be sent up to bed. There was nothing
unusual for Nurse Moss coming for Master Hugh, who always objected to be
sent off to bed, but I saw Lady Worsley turn suddenly pale.
"Why, nurse, I thought that he had gone to you nearly half an hour ago,"
she exclaimed. "He has not come into the drawing-room since the mummers
were here. Oh! where can he be?"
"Probably coiled up in an arm-chair in the other drawing-room, or in the
study," said Sir Hugh, calmly, seeing our aunt's agitation; but I
thought that even his eye looked anxious. The next moment everybody was
hunting about in every possible direction. The child was not in the
north drawing-room, nor in the ante-room, nor in the study. That was
soon made clear. Where was he, though? Some of the party went
down-stairs, to help the servants look in that part of the house; others
searched through the bedrooms. Every cupboard, every chest and box, was
opened. We looked under every arm-chair, and bed, and sofa in the
house. We boys were, I must say, the most active in our movements, and
it was a mercy that we did not set the house on fire. We looked into
every attic--those inhabited and those full of lumber. In the latter I
should not have been quite happy alone. They were full of so many
strange articles of furniture and ornaments, or what were once
considered such, and pictures in corners, with eyes, as the light of our
candles fell on them, staring out so curiously, that I could not help
fancying that some person had got in there to frighten us. Frequently
the cry was echoed through the house--"Is he found? is he found?" with a
reply in the negative. Sir Hugh headed one party, Lady Worsley another,
Cousin Peter a third, and Julia a fourth. After a most systematic
search not a trace of the lost child could be discovered. Matters had
now become very painful. Our aunt was almost overpowered with her
feelings of anxiety, and Julia was nearly as much agitated. Sir Hugh
next summoned the servants, as well as all the family, into the hall,
and questioned every one to discover by whom his son had last been seen.
Several of the servants acknowledged to have observed him enter the
servants' hall, but no one could say positively that he had gone out
again. No further information could be elicited from any one. The
matter had become truly alarming and mysterious. While the female part
of the household continued the search within the house, we, with all the
lanterns which could be mustered, and extemporised torches, began a
search outside. The ringers and the singers and the mummers had taken
their departure. Messengers were, therefore, sent after them to the
village, to call them back, that they might be questioned. The child
would scarcely have left the house of his own accord, and yet, if not,
who would have ventured to carry him away? What temptation, indeed,
would there have been for any one to do so? That was the question. I
had never seen Cousin Peter in such a state of agitation as he now was,
though he tried to be calm and composed. Round and round the house we
went, and looked under every tree and bush, and into every dark corner.
At last the mummers, and the singers, and ringers, began to come up from
the village, accompanied by the greater part of the population of the
place, all anxious to know what had happened. A variety of rumours were
afloat. Everybody sympathised with our uncle. As soon as they were
assembled he addressed them, and then begged those who had anything to
say to step forward that he might hear them one by one. Not a word of
information, however, was elicited of any value. They had seen little
Hugh in the servants' hall, and on one occasion he had darted forward
and run in and out among the mummers; but they thought that he had gone
back again among the servants. Hopes had been entertained that he, for
a freak, had run off with the mummers or singers; but they all
positively asserted that he was not with them when they left the Hall.
Inquiries were made whether any suspicious characters had been seen in
the neighbourhood. The people talked for some time among themselves.
Then John Hodson, the village blacksmith, stepped forward, and said that
two days before a stranger had spoken to him as he was working in his
smithy, and asked a number of questions about the place; but he didn't
mind them at the time, and thought that it was only for curiosity's
sake. The cobbler, Ebenezer Patch, also recollected that a stranger had
spoken to him, but he didn't heed much at the time what questions were
asked or what were answered.
"What was he like, Patch?" asked Sir Hugh, in a hoarse voice, which
sounded strange to my ears.
"Why, Sir Hugh, he had, I marked, a very white, long face, and he had an
odd bend in his back, which made him look somewhat short. He spoke
gently, I mind, just like a gentleman, and I made no doubt that he was
one," answered the cobbler.
The blacksmith gave the same account of the stranger. It seemed to
agitate our uncle strangely; so it did Cousin Peter. They talked aside
for some time.
"Can that wretched man have had anything to do with it?" I heard Sir
Hugh say.
"Too probably, indeed, should he really have been in the neighbourhood.
I fear so," remarked Cousin Peter. "At all events, we must endeavour to
discover where he has gone. He is capable of any daring deed of
wickedness. My only hope is that we are mistaken in supposing that the
person seen was he."
"The description suits him too closely to leave any doubt on my mind."
I did not hear more, and I had no idea who the person was of whom they
were speaking, except that he was the stranger seen in the village; nor
could I tell why they should fancy he had had anything to do with the
disappearance of little Hugh.
After a further consultation, Cousin Peter and two other gentlemen went
to their rooms, and returned booted and spurred, and, putting on their
great-coats, accompanied by Sam Barnby, rode off in two parties in
different directions. Notwithstanding this, another search, intended to
be still more rigid than the first, was instituted, both inside and
outside the house. Meantime, Sir Hugh had ordered lights into the
library, and spent the night writing letters to magistrates and others,
and papers of all sorts for printing, offering rewards for the recovery
of the lost child. Lady Worsley was for most of the time in the
drawing-room with Julia and several other Indies, who were in vain
attempting to comfort her. No one went to bed that night at Foxholme
Park. We boys were called in by Sir Hugh, and highly proud at being
employed by him in copying notices to be sent out in the morning,
offering a reward for the discovery of little Hugh. We were all very
sorry for the loss of our small cousin; but we liked the excitement
amazingly. For my part, I must own that I could not, however,
altogether forget the games Cousin Peter had prepared for us, and the
amusement we had anticipated, and regret for the fun and frolic we
should miss, mingled somewhat with the sorrow I really felt for the loss
of little Hugh, and the trouble which had come on our uncle and aunt and
all the family.