"I should like awfully to do it." Rowland adjured him to pack up his tools and decamp, and repaired to the house.

The air by this time had become portentously dark, and the thunder was incessant and tremendous; in the midst of it the lightning flashed and vanished, like the treble shrilling upon the bass.

The innkeeper and his servants had crowded to the doorway, and were looking at the scene with faces which seemed a proof that it was unprecedented.
As Rowland approached, the group divided, to let some one pass from within, and Mrs.Hudson came forth, as white as a corpse and trembling in every limb.
"My boy, my boy, where is my boy ?" she cried.

"Mr.Mallet, why are you here without him?
Bring him to me!" "Has no one seen Mr.Hudson ?" Rowland asked of the others.

"Has he not returned ?" Each one shook his head and looked grave, and Rowland attempted to reassure Mrs.Hudson by saying that of course he had taken refuge in a chalet.
"Go and find him, go and find him!" she cried, insanely.