Free Garth of Tregillis by Henrietta Reid

‘Sorry to disturb you, I’m sure, Miss Westall, but I thought as after all he’s your charge, so to speak, it was only my duty to tell you.’ She paused and drew a deep breath.
    I gazed at her blankly, still gripped by the sombre atmosphere of the room and the letter I had found. ‘Tell me what, Mrs.
    Kinnefer?’ I asked dazedly.
    She drew herself up and pursed her lips disapprovingly at what she evidently considered an inadequate reaction on my part. ‘Just that Emile is missing.’
    ‘Missing? But he can’t be,’ I exclaimed in astonishment.
    Mrs. Kinnefer quivered indignantly. ‘But he is , Miss Westall.
    We’ve looked everywhere for him and I can tell you that’s not an easy task in a place this size.’
    ‘Perhaps he’s somewhere in the grounds,’ I suggested.
    Mrs. Kinnefer shook her head. ‘No, one of the servants saw him with Melinda in the picture gallery shortly before he went missing.
    Anyway, the men have searched the outhouses and stables.
    There’s no sign of him. It’s as though he had disappeared into thin air.’
    ‘But of course Melinda knows where he is,’ I said with a sense of foreboding.
    Mrs. Kinnefer nodded grimly. ‘There’s no doubt of that, but she won’t say a word. She’s as stubborn as a mule: just says it was her turn to seek and she couldn’t find him anywhere; though why on earth she doesn’t let us know where he’s gone is beyond me.
    There’s simply no understanding the child. The sooner her parents return from abroad and take responsibility for her the better I’ll like it!’
    But while Mrs. Kinnefer had been talking I was remembering Melinda’s glee when she had shown me the secret passage. She was undoubtedly proud of her discovery and although she was cautious of imparting her secret to those in authority who might put an end to her activities she was, I guessed, very anxious to exploit her find; and what better way than to trap the unsuspecting Emile?
    I got to my feet, restraining the urge I felt to rush out, find Melinda and shake her secret from her, I tried to appear as casual as possible. I could imagine the scenes that would ensue should Mrs. Kinnefer learn of Melinda’s latest exploit, for I hadn’t a doubt that poor little Emile was trapped in the secret passage and must be terrified out of his wits.
    ‘Where’s Melinda now?’ I asked as calmly as possible.
    ‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ Mrs. Kinnefer said. ‘Not that it makes any odds where she is, for she won’t say a word! I declare if it weren’t for that poor child being missing I shouldn’t care if I never saw Melinda again. She’s been nothing but a nuisance since she came. She’s as sweet as pie, of course, when Mr. Garth’s here, but no sooner is his back turned than she behaves like a little brat.’
    To my relief she didn’t follow me when I headed for the picture gallery. It was evident that she considered I was wasting my time. I saw her point of view too when I reached the long gallery, for apart from the pictures in the heavy gilt frames that hung on the panelled walls there was nothing there except the Jacobean benches between the long windows: the polished oak floor gleamed like a mirror.
    Light filtered dully through the long, leaded windows and I was very conscious of being alone: the rest of the household seemed very far away and utter silence lay over the gallery.
    I walked slowly, scanning the walls, remembering Melinda’s gleeful description of how she had discovered the secret passage. A prissy lady with bulgy-eyed dogs, she had mentioned, but now all I could see were enormous canvases of what appeared to be long-dead Seatons; grave-looking men: except for the varying costumes of the different periods it was hard to distinguish one from another under the coat of amber varnish that seemed to give them all the same colouring and appearance. There were family groups too of severe- looking ladies in lace caps surrounded by plump, pantalooned children; and