Emily Kane, with her companion and her maid, occupied a suite of rooms in the west wing of the house.
Miss Allison followed her there, arriving in time to see Ogle, her maid, helping her to an armchair in her bedroom.
She laid down her various burdens and would have left Emily in Ogle's jealous charge had not Emily said: "Don't go! What did that hussy say to you in the conservatory?"
"Nothing much," replied Patricia. "I've heard it all before, anyway."
"She'll run off with that Dermott yet," prophesied Emily. "Good riddance to bad rubbish is what I say! Not that I want a scandal in the family. We'll leave that to the Mansells. Them and their precious son! You take my advice and send him to the right-about."
"I will," promised Patricia.
Emily began to sip the glass of Horlick's Malted Milk which Ogle had put into her hand. "If my son would take something hot going to bed it would do him more good than trapesing about on the cliffs at this hour of night," she remarked. "Fresh air indeed! There's a great deal of nonsense talked about fresh air these days. I've no patience with it. Why he doesn't catch his death of cold I don't know."
"I expect he's hardened to all weathers by this time," said Patricia consolingly.
"That remains to be seen. He's as pigheaded as his father was. Never knew a Kane who wasn't. Jim's as bad as the rest of them, I warn you— Here, take this away!"
Ogle relieved her of her empty glass and went out with it. Emily said: "I've had a very dull evening. Don't you start being discreet with me, young woman! That hussy's working up for mischief, or I don't know the signs. What's the matter with her?"
"Well, as far as I can gather, she wants more money. On account of her Russian blood."
Mrs. Kane stared for a moment and then gave a cackle of laughter. "She does, eh? It would do her more good to have a few children, and you may tell her I said so."
Patricia laughed. "I expect you will tell her so yourself, Mrs. Kane."
Ogle came back into the room and began to make ostentatious play with a dressing gown. Patricia bade her employer good-night and went away to her own bedroom.
Mr. James Kane's proposal kept her mind occupied for quite some time but did not trouble her dreams.
She slept as soundly as ever and did not wake until the housemaid entered the room at a quarter to eight with her early-morning tea.
"If you please, miss, Pritchard would like a word with you," said this damsel, evidently thinking the request an odd one.
Miss Allison blinked and said sleepily: "Pritchard wants a word with me? What on earth for?"
"I don't know, miss. He didn't say, but he looks ever so queer," replied Doris eagerly.
Miss Allison sat up. "Is he ill?"
"Oh no, I don't think so, miss! He never said he was ill, but I'm sure there's something wrong. It struck both Mallard and I he looked queer."
It seemed to Miss Allison that there must be something very wrong indeed to make Pritchard, who was almost the perfect butler, request an interview with her before ever she was out of bed. She got up and slid her feet into her slippers. "All right, I'll see him at once. Ask him to come upstairs, will you?"
"He is upstairs, miss," said Doris. "He's waiting on the landing."
Miss Allison put on her dressing gown and sallied forth on to the passage. Pritchard was standing at the head of the staircase. Miss Allison would not have described his appearance as queer, but he certainly looked rather worried. At sight of her he apologised for disturbing her at an unreasonable hour and said in a lowered voice: "I wouldn't have troubled you, miss, if I had not thought the matter serious—not to say disturbing. The master, miss, is not in his room, and his bed has not been slept in."
Miss Allison stared at him rather blankly. Various explanations chased one another through her head, only to be dismissed as inadequate. She said mechanically: "Are you sure?"
"You may see for yourself, miss," replied Pritchard, leading the way to Silas Kane's room.
The sight of the bedclothes turned neatly back, the uncrushed pillow, the pyjamas laid out, was oddly frightening. There could be no doubt that Silas had not slept in his bed. Miss Allison pulled herself together and said briskly: "Have you sent out to search the grounds? Mr. Kane went for his usual walk last night, I know. He may have had a heart attack."
"Yes, miss, I thought of that at once. There's no sign of him been seen yet, but I've sent Edwards and Pullman along the cliff walk. I believe the master generally went that way. I thought it best to tell you at once, on account of the mistress."
"Quite right. There's no need to say anything to alarm Mrs. Kane until we know more. Did you see Mr. Kane go out last night?"
"Not precisely, miss. I saw him when Mr. James left, and I understood from him that he meant to take his usual walk. I happened to mention the fact of there being a considerable sea fret, but the master made nothing of it. You know his way, miss. He told me I need not wait up, and I consequently went up to bed and thus did not actually see him leave the house."
Miss Allison nodded and went back onto the landing.
Her appearance there coincided with the opening of Timothy Harte's bedroom door. Timothy stuck a tousled head out and desired to be told what all the row was about.
Miss Allison allowed this grossly unfair description of her quiet colloquy with the butler to pass unchallenged and merely said that nothing was up. Timothy looked severely from her to Pritchard and said with a marked nasal intonation: "Say, sister, get wise to this! You can't put nothin' across on me!"
"Say, brother," retorted Miss Allison, not to be outdone, "let me advise you to scram!"
Timothy grinned and, apparently construing this request as an invitation, came out onto the landing. "I thought you looked as though you might be sporting," he remarked. "Honestly, what is up?"
Pritchard gave a warning cough, but Miss Allison judged it wisest to admit Mr. Harte into their confidence.
"We don't quite know, but we're afraid Mr. Kane may have been taken ill on his walk last night or have met with some accident. He doesn't seem to have come home."
Timothy's eyes grew round, but the most partial of observers could scarcely have supposed his expression to denote anything but profound relish of these disturbing tidings. "I say!" he gasped. "I jolly well told you so! I bet I had a kind of instinct about it!"
"Don't be so absurd!" said Miss Allison rather irritably. "How could you have had an instinct, as you call it, that Mr. Kane would have a heart attack? Besides, you never told me anything of the kind."
"Yes, I did!" said Timothy. "At least, not about a heart attack. But I distinctly remember saying that I shouldn't be a bit surprised if someone was murdered here in the night. Actually, I never thought about it being Uncle Silas, but I probably had a sort of premonition all the same."
The butler looked outraged and startled, but Miss Allison, unimpressed, said: "If that's your idea of a joke, it's a bad one. There's no question of murder, but we are rather worried about your uncle, and that kind of suggestion isn't in the best of good taste."
"Sorry," said Timothy. "As a matter of fact, he isn't my uncle, though. Actually he isn't any relation at all."
"Well, you go and get dressed," replied Miss Allison. "Then you can help look for him."
It seemed good to Timothy to follow this advice. He said: "Sure thing!" and disappeared into his room again.
"I'll do the same," said Miss Allison. "You've warned Ogle not to say anything to Mrs. Kane, I hope? Not that I think she would."