“Yes, just as he was when we missed him.”
Hewitt stepped up to the child as he sat on his mother’s lap, and rubbed his cheek, speaking pleasantly to him. The little fellow looked up and smiled, and Hewitt observed: “One thing is noticeable: this linen overall is almost clean. Little boys like this don’t keep one white overall clean for three days, do they? And see--those shoes--aren’t they new? Those he had were old, I think you said, and tan-coloured.”
The shoes now on the child’s feet were of white leather, with a noticeable sewn ornamentation in silk. His mother had not noticed them before, and as she looked he lifted his little foot higher and said. “Look, mummy, more new shoes!”
“Ask him,” suggested Hewitt hurriedly, “who gave them to him.”
His father asked him, and the little fellow looked puzzled. After a pause, he said, “Mummy.”
He thought a moment and then said, “No, no, not _vis_ mummy--course not.” And for some little while after that the only answer procurable from him was, “Course not,” which seemed to be a favourite phrase of his.
“Yes,” his mother answered, “but he only says ‘Ta-ta.’”
She did. This time, after a little reflection, he pointed his chubby arm toward the door and said. “Been dere.”
Again Charley seemed puzzled. Then, looking doubtfully at his mother, he said “Mummy.”
“No, not mummy,” she answered; and his reply was “Course not,” after which he attempted to climb on her shoulder.
Then, at Hewitt’s suggestion, he was asked whom he went to see. This time the reply was prompt.
“No, not _vis_ daddy--course not.” And that was all that could be got from him.
“He will probably say things in the next day or two which may be useful,” Hewitt said, “if you listen pretty sharply. Now I should like to go to the small morning-room.”
In time room in question the door was still open. Outside the moon had risen and made the evening almost as clear as day. Hewitt examined the steps and the path at their foot, but all was dry and hard, and showed no footmark. Then, as his eye rested on the small gate, “See here,” he exclaimed suddenly, “somebody has been in, lifting the gate, as I showed Mrs. Seton when I was last here. The gate has been replaced in a hurry, and only the top hinge has dropped in its place; the bottom one is disjointed.” He lifted the gate once more and set it back. The ground just along its foot was softer than in the parts surrounding, and here Hewitt perceived the print of a heel. It was the heel-mark of a woman’s boot, small and sharp and of the usual curved D-shape. Nowhere else within or without was there the slightest mark. Hewitt went some distance either way in the outer lane, but without discovering anything more.