"Yes," sighed Vera. "The ship left the docks this morning. He took leave
of me last night."
Coralie looked doubtful. She glanced again at her sister under her
eyelids.
"Then--if Edward Pym is no longer here to take walks with you, Vera, how
is it you came home so late to-night?"
"Because I have been to a concert," cried Vera, her tone as gay as a
lark's. "Louise and I started to walk here this afternoon. I wanted you
to see her; she is really very nice. Coming through Fitzroy Square, she
called upon some friends of hers who live there, the Barretts--he is a
professor of music. Mrs. Barrett was going to a concert to-night and she
said if we would stay she'd take us. So we had tea with her and went to
it, and they sent me home in a cab."
"You seem to be taking your pleasure!" remarked Coralie.
"I had such an adventure downstairs," cried Verena, dropping her voice
after a pause of thought. "Nearly fell into the arms of papa."
"What--now?"
"Now; two minutes ago. While hesitating whether to softly tinkle the
kitchen-bell and smuggle myself in and up to my room, or to storm the
house with a bold summons, Ozias drew open the front-door. He looked
so glad to see me, poor stupid old fellow. I was talking to him in the
passage when I heard papa's cough. 'Oh, hide yourself, Missee Vera,'
cried Ozias, 'the master, he so angry;' and away I rushed into papa's
little library, seeing the door of it open----"
"He has come out of it, then!" interjected Coralie.
"I thought papa would go upstairs," said Vera. "Instead of that, he came
on into the room. I crept behind the old red window-curtains, and----"
"And what?" asked Coralie, for Verena made a sudden pause.
"Groaned out with fright, and nearly betrayed myself," continued Verena.
"Papa stared at the curtains as if he thought they were alive, and then
and there backed out of the room. Perhaps he feared a ghost was there.
He was looking so strange, Coralie."
"All your fault, child. Since the night you went away he has looked more
like a maniac than a rational man, and acted like one. I have just said
so to Johnny Ludlow."
"Poor papa! I will be good and tractable as an angel now, and make it up
to him. And--why, Coralie, here are visitors."
We gazed in surprise. It is not usual to receive calls at bedtime. Ozias
stood at the door showing in Captain Tanerton. Behind him was Alfred
Saxby.
The captain's manner was curious. No sooner did he set eyes on us than
he started back, as if he thought we might bite him.
"Not here. Not the ladies. I told you it was Sir Dace I wanted," he said
in quick sentences to Ozias. "Sir Dace alone."
Ozias went back down the stairs, and they after him, and were shown into
the library. It was a little room nearly opposite the front-entrance,
and underneath the room called the boudoir. You went down a few stairs
to it.
Verena turned white. A prevision of evil seized her.
"Something must be the matter," she shivered, laying her hand upon my
arm. "Did you notice Captain Tanerton's face? I never saw him look like
that. And what does he do here? Where is the ship? And oh, Johnny"--and
her voice rose to a shriek--"where's Edward Pym?"
Alas! we soon knew what the matter was--and where Edward Pym was.
Dead. Murdered. That's what young Saxby called it. Sir Dace, looking
frightfully scared, started with them down to Ship Street. I went also;
I could not keep away. George was to sit up for me at home if I were
late.
"For," as Miss Deveen had said to me in the morning, laughingly,
"there's no telling, Johnny, at what unearthly hour you may get back
from Gravesend."