He's sure to make straight for the city."
Both men welcomed action. They rushed to the library and put in a long
distance call and then, while waiting, paced the room's length back and
forth. Harkness, shaking and white and miserable, glued his ear to the
crack in the door, hopeful for one crumb of comforting news.
Below stairs Mrs. Budge, flatly refusing to believe that "Miss Robin"
could be lost just when she had learned to love her, beat up a cake for
her homecoming, unmindful of the tears that splashed into the batter.
In the little sitting-room they had shared, Beryl, who did not even have
the heart to play with Susy, sat with her nose against the window
watching the ribbon of road over which anyone would come if they came.
That was why she was the first of the Manor household to spy the
dilapidated Ford approaching, snorting up the incline. Something about
it made her think of the general dilapidation of the Forgotten Village.
It might be some word! She rushed down the stairs, two steps at a time,
past the startled Harkness, through the big front door. The
strange-looking car had turned into the Manor gate.
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