First, she reminded herself, they had to at least make a token effort to look for Martin. She headed toward the dogs, waving Martin’s scarf and wondering what on earth had possessed her to imagine they could actually understand what she wanted from them.

It was more than two hours later when she finally returned to the manor. By then, exhausted and hungry, she’d forgotten her original mission. She’d allowed the dogs to romp until they were ready to drop, while she’d indulged in her favorite pastime-reliving memories of all her meetings with Earl.

It wasn’t until Violet dragged the heavy oak door open and Elizabeth caught sight of her housekeeper’s face, that she remembered. “What happened?” she demanded, stepping inside. “Is Martin all right?”

“I don’t know.” Violet closed the door, then leaned against it for a moment before turning around. “He’s still missing. The girls and I have searched everywhere in the manor. Desmond has searched the grounds. He even bicycled down to the village, in case Martin had taken it into his head to walk down there. Though, slow as he walks, he would never have got that far until after dark. There was no sign of him.” She shook her head. “I don’t know where he’s gone, Lizzie. He’s missed his meal and it’s almost time for supper. He’s never done that before. I have to tell you, I’m really worried. I’m afraid something terrible might have happened to him this time. What are we going to do?”

By the time the long summer twilight finally gave way to dusky night, Martin still hadn’t returned to the Manor House. Just to be sure, Violet sent Polly and Sadie on another extensive hunt throughout the mansion, until everyone was convinced the elderly gentleman was not inside.

Greatly worried, Elizabeth rang the police constable at home, since the police station had closed its doors several hours ago. Judging by P.C. George Dalrymple’s tone, he’d been woken up from a deep sleep, for which Elizabeth profusely apologized.