Fancy, a whole night out of doors, in that state! He might be
half-dead with cold by the morning."
Dr. Ashton shook his head in dissent. His dislike of boating seemed just
now to be rising into horror.
"What are you going to do now, Elster?" inquired Captain Dawkes.
"Go to the mill again, I think, and find out if any one saw Hartledon
leave the skiff, and which way he took. One of the servants can run down
to Hillary's the while."
Dr. Ashton rose, bowing for permission to Lady Kirton; and the gentlemen
with one accord rose with him, the same purpose in the mind of all--that
of more effectually scouring the ground between the mill and Hartledon.
The countess-dowager felt that she should like to box the ears of every
one of them. The idea of danger in connection with Lord Hartledon had
not yet penetrated to her brain.
At this moment, before they had left the room, there arose a strange wild
sound from without--almost an unearthly sound--that seemed to come from
several voices, and to be bearing round the house from the river-path.
Mrs. O'Moore put down her knife and fork, and rose up with a startled
cry.
"There's nothing to be alarmed at," said the dowager. "It is those Irish
harvesters. I know their horrid voices, and dare say they are riotously
drunk. Hartledon ought to put them in prison for it."
The sounds died away into silence.
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