The doctor was very late.  Rachel, who was going to the Watch Service, waited for the Bishop in the hall till he came out of his study with the curate, who had doubts.

When the young man had left, Rachel said, hesitating: 

“I shall not go to the service if Dr. Brown does not arrive before then.  Hugh was to have come with us.  I don’t want him to go all through the night thinking—­perhaps if I am prevented going you will see him, and speak a word to him.”

“My dear,” said the Bishop, “I went across to his rooms two hours ago, directly you went up to Hester.”

He loved Rachel, but he wondered at her lack of imagination.

“Two hours ago!  And what did you say to him?”

“I did not see him.  I was too late.  He was gone.”

“Gone!” said Rachel, faintly.  “Where?”

“I do not know.  I went up to his rooms.  All his things were still there.”

“Where is he now?”

“I do not know.”

The Bishop looked at her compassionately.  She had been a long time forgiving him.  While she hesitated he had said to her, “Where is he now?” and she had not understood.

Her face became pinched and livid.  She understood now, after the event.

“I am frightened for him,” she said.

The Bishop had been alarmed while she poured out his tea before they began to talk.

“Perhaps he has gone back to London,” she said, her eyes widening with a vague dread.

The Bishop had gone on to the station, and had ascertained that Hugh had not left by the one train which had stopped at Southminster between seven and nine.  But he did not add to her anxiety by saying so.

The doctor’s brougham, coming at full speed, drew up suddenly at the door.

“There he is at last,” said the Bishop, and before the bell could be rung he opened the door.

A figure was already on the threshold, but it was not Dr. Brown.  It was Dick.

“Where is Dr. Brown?” said Rachel and the Bishop simultaneously, looking at the doctor’s well-known brougham and smoking horses.

“He asked me to come,” said Dick, measuring Rachel with his eye.  Then he did as he would be done by, and added, slowly:  “He was kept.  He was on his way here from Wilderleigh, where one of the servants is ill, and as I was dining there he offered me a lift back.  And when we were passing that farm near the wood a man stopped us.  He said there had been an accident—­some one nearly drowned.  I went, too.  It turned out to be Scarlett.  Dr. Brown remained with him, and sent me to take you to him.”

“Is he dead?” asked Rachel, her eyes never leaving Dick’s face.

“No, but he is very ill.”

“I will come now.”

The chaplain came slowly across the hall, laden with books and papers.

“Let Canon Sebright know at once that I cannot take part in the service,” said the Bishop, sharply; and he hurried down the steps after Rachel, and got into the carriage with her.  Dick turned up the collar of his fur coat, and climbed up beside the coachman.