Scarhaven Keep J. S. Fletcher (early reader chapter books TXT) š
- Author: J. S. Fletcher
Book online Ā«Scarhaven Keep J. S. Fletcher (early reader chapter books TXT) šĀ». Author J. S. Fletcher
āDid he say anything about his own movements yesterday?ā asked Stafford. āDid he tell you that he was going anywhere?ā
āNot a word, Mr. Stafford,ā replied Hackett. āBut you know his habits as well as I do.ā
āJust so,ā agreed Stafford. āMr. Oliver,ā he continued, turning to Copplestone, āis a great lover of outdoor life. On Sundays, when weāre travelling from one town to another, he likes to do the journey by motorā āalone. In a case like this, where the two towns are not very far apart, itās his practice to find out if thereās any particular beauty spot or place of interest between them, and to spend his Sunday there. I daresay thatās what he did yesterday. You see, all last week we were at Northborough. That, like Norcaster, is a coast townā āthereās fifty miles between them. If he followed out his usual plan heād probably hire a motorcar and follow the coast road, and if he came to any place that was of special interest, heād stop there. Butā āin the usual way of thingsā āheād have turned up at his rooms at the Angel hotel here last night. He didnātā āand he hasnāt turned up here, either. So where is he?ā
āHave you made inquiries of the company, Mr. Stafford?ā asked Hackett. āMost of āem wander about a bit of a Sundayā āthey might have seen him.ā
āGood idea!ā agreed Stafford. He beckoned Copplestone to follow him on to the stage, where the members of the company sat or stood about in groups, each conscious that something unusual had occurred. āItās really a queer, and perhaps a serious thing,ā he whispered as he steered his companion through a maze of scenery. āAnd if Oliver doesnāt turn up, we shall be in a fine mess. Of course, thereās an understudy for his part, butā āI say!ā he went on, as they stepped upon the stage, āHave any of you seen Mr. Oliver, anywhere, since Saturday night? Can anybody tell anything about himā āanything at all? Becauseā āitās useless to deny the factā āheās not come here, and heās not come to town at all, so far as we know. Soā āā
Rothwell came hurrying on to the stage from the opposite wings. He hastened across to Stafford and drew him and Copplestone a little aside.
āIāve heard from Northborough,ā he said. āI phoned Waters, the manager there, to run across to the Golden Apple and make inquiries. The Golden Apple people say that Oliver left there at eleven oāclock yesterday morning. He was alone. He simply walked out of the hotel. And they know nothing more.ā
II Grey Rock and Grey SeaThe three men stood for a while silently looking at each other. Copplestone, as a stranger, secretly wondered why the two managers seemed so concerned; to him a delay of half an hour in keeping an appointment did not appear to be quite as serious as they evidently considered it. But he had never met Bassett Oliver, and knew nothing of his ways; he only began to comprehend matters when Rothwell turned to Stafford with an air of decision.
āLook here!ā he said. āYouād better go and make inquiry at Northborough. See if you can track him. Something must be wrongā āperhaps seriously wrong. You donāt quite understand, do you, Mr. Copplestone?ā he went on, giving the younger man a sharp glance. āYou see, we know Mr. Oliver so wellā āweāve both been with him a good many years. Heās a model of system, regularity, punctuality, and all the rest of it. In the ordinary course of events, wherever he spent yesterday, heād have been sure to turn up at his rooms at the Angel hotel last night, and heād have walked in here this morning at half past twelve. As he hasnāt done either, why, then, something unusual has happened. Stafford, youād better get a move on.ā
āWait a minute,ā said Stafford. He turned again to the groups behind him, repeating his question.
āHas anybody anything to tell?ā he asked anxiously. āWeāve just heard that Mr. Oliver left his hotel at Northborough yesterday morning at eleven oāclock, alone, walking. Has anybody any idea of any project, any excursion, that he had in mind?ā
An elderly man who had been in conversation with the leading lady stepped forward.
āI was talking to Oliver about the coast scenery between here and Northborough the other dayā āFriday,ā he remarked. āHeād never seen itā āI told him I used to know it pretty well once. He said heād try and see something of it on Sundayā āyesterday, you know. And, I sayā āā here he came closer to the two managers and lowered his voiceā āāthat coast is very wild, lonely, and a good bit dangerousā āsharp and precipitous cliffs. Eh?ā
Rothwell clapped a hand on Staffordās arm.
āYouād really better be off to Northborough,ā he said with decision. āYouāre sure to come across traces of him. Go to the Golden Appleā āthen the station. Wire or telephone meā āhere. Of course, this rehearsalās off. About this eveningā āoh, well, a lot may happen before then. But go at onceā āI believe you can get expresses from here to Northborough pretty often.ā
āIāll go with youā āif I may,ā said Copplestone suddenly. āI might be of use. Thereās that cab still at the door, you knowā āshall we run up to the station?ā
āGood!ā assented Stafford. āYes, come by all means.ā He turned to Rothwell for a moment. āIf he should turn up here, phone to Waters at the Northborough theatre, wonāt you?ā he said. āWeāll look in there as soon as we arrive.ā
He hurried out with Copplestone and together they drove up to the station, where an express was just leaving for the south. Once on their way to Northborough, Stafford turned to his companion with a grave shake of the head.
āI daresay you donāt quite see the reason of our anxiety,ā he observed. āYou see, we know Oliver. Heās a trick of wandering about by himself on Sundaysā āwhen he gets the chance. Of course when thereās a long journey between two towns, he doesnāt
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