Clarissa and I set about to explain it to him, yet, between us, I feared that we may only have made things a bit worse. “Now, please, both of you,” said he, “let me see if I have this properly now. Elizabeth is a girl whom you knew back in Lichfield,” now addressing Clarissa. “Yet about the time you came here, so did she. Is that correct?” Of course, it was. Nevertheless, he took us painstakingly through all the information that we had heaped upon him, getting confirmation for each bit and fact until it became evident to me that he had used this as a device to slow things down a bit. “And you say that she has now gone missing?” “Indeed she has,” answered Clarissa. “Her mother brought this distressing news just now.” “Is she here?” “Oh, indeed sir—and terribly distressed.” “Well, bring her here, child, bring her here.” Needing no further encouragement, she set off down the hall at a dizzying clip. When she returned, she had with her a woman of no great age, yet one who bore a face that was lined and careworn; it was plain that the woman had been crying.
