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<h3>Chapter Twenty Three.</h3> <h4>Waiting for Breakfast.</h4> “Such a bright cheery morning, Lydia,” said Katrine, knocking at the bedroom door. “Oh, you are up. Breakfast must be ready.” The two girls descended, to find that they were first. “Nobody down,” cried Katrine, “and I am so hungry. Oh, how wicked it seems on a morning like this to keep out all the light and sunshine.” Just then, old Mr Girtle came in, looking, as usual, very quiet and thoughtful; and after a while Artis came down, looking dull and sleepy. “Where’s the boss?” he said, suddenly. “The what?—I do not understand you,” said the old lawyer. “The master—the guardian of this tomb. Where’s Capel?” “Oh,” said the old lawyer. “Possibly the fine morning may have tempted him to take a walk.” “Are we going to wait for Capel?” said Artis. “I’m so hungry, I feel quite ashamed,” said Katrine; “but I think we ought to wait.” “There is nothing to be ashamed of in a healthy young appetite, my dear young lady,” said the old lawyer. “I have been reading in my room since six, and I should like to begin. I don’t suppose he will be long. Mr Capel out, Preenham?” “I think not, sir,” said the butler, who was bringing in a covered dish. “Perhaps you had better tell him that we are all assembled. He may have overslept himself.” At the end of five minutes the old butler was back to say that Mr Capel had not answered when he knocked. “He may be ill,” said Lydia anxiously, and then, catching Katrine’s eye, she coloured warmly. Preenham gave Artis a meaning look, and that gentleman followed him out. “What is it?” “Mr Capel hasn’t been to bed all night, sir.” “Not been to bed all night, Preenham?” said the old lawyer, who had followed. “Did you let him out last night?” “No, sir.” “Then how can he have gone out? I saw that the door was fastened after you had gone to bed, and it was still fastened when I came down at six.” “And at seven too, sir,” said the butler. “He must be in the house,” said Artis. “Go and look round.” “Is Mr Capel ill?” said Katrine. “No, no, my dear, I think not,” said the old lawyer. “I’ll go, too, and see.” “It is very strange,” said Katrine, turning to Lydia, who looked ashy pale. “I hope nothing is the matter, dear.” She seemed so calm that Lydia took courage and returned to the breakfast-table, while, followed by the old lawyer and Preenham, Artis examined the dining-room and study, then ascended to the first floor, tried the Colonel’s door, found it fast, and went on into the drawing-room. “I tried that door,” he said grimly, “because that is the chamber of horrors.” “It is locked, and the key is in my table,” said the old lawyer, and then they searched the other rooms, finding Capel’s watch, purse and pocketbook, and looked at each other blankly. “He must be out,” said Artis. “No, sir; here’s his hat and stick.” Artis stopped, thinking, and then bounded up the stairs again to the Colonel’s door. “I thought so,” he said. “There’s something wrong here. Look.” He pointed to several holes through the mahogany door, the mark of a saw scoring the panels, and the reddish dust on the lion-skin mat. “Is any one here?” he cried, knocking. “I say! Is any one here? Pah! Look at that!” He uttered a cry, almost like a woman, as he pointed to a place where the lion-skin rug did not reach, and there, dimly seen by the gloomy light thrown by the stained-glass window, was a little thread of blood that had run beneath the door. <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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