His arm was seized by Mr. Rugge. "She's gone,—fled," gasped the manager, breathless. "Out of the lattice; fifteen feet high; not dashed to pieces; vanished."
"Go on and order breakfast," said Losely to Mr. Poole, who was listening too inquisitively. He drew the manager away. "Can't you keep your tongue in your head before strangers? The girl is gone?"
"Out of the lattice, and fifteen feet high!"
"Any sheets left hanging out of the lattice?"
"Sheets! No."
"'Then she did not go without help: somebody must have thrown up to her a rope-ladder; nothing so easy; done it myself scores of times for the descent of 'maids who love the moon,' Mr. Rugge. But at her age there is not a moon; at least there is not a man in the moon: one must dismiss, then, the idea of a rope-ladder,—too precocious. But are you quite sure she is gone? not hiding in some cupboard? Sacre! very odd. Have you seen Mrs. Crane about it?"
"Yes, just come from her; she thinks that villain Waife must have stolen her. But I want you, sir, to come with me to a magistrate."
"Magistrate! I! why? nonsense; set the police to work."
"Your deposition that she is your lawful child, lawfully made over to me, is necessary for the inquisition; I mean police."
"Hang it, what a bother! I hate magistrates, and all belonging to them. Well, I must breakfast! I'll see to it afterwards. Oblige me by not calling Mr. Waife a villain; good old fellow in his way."
"Good! Powers above!"
"But if he took her off, how did he get at her? It must have been preconcerted."
"Ha! true. But she has not been suffered to speak to a soul not in the company, Mrs. Crane excepted."
"Perhaps at the performance last night some signal was given?"
"But if Waife had been there I should have seen him; my troupe would have known him: such a remarkable face; one eye too."
"Well, well, do what you think best. I'll call on you after breakfast; let me go now. Basta! Basta!"
Losely wrenched himself from the manager, and strode off to the inn; then, ere joining Poole, he sought Mrs. Crane. "
