The captain, who had kept his eyes on the little party, anticipated Miss Drayton's questioning. Drawing her aside, he explained the situation. "The scoundrel is probably safe in Canada by this time," he ended. "He'll take good care to lay low. This child's other relatives will have to be hunted up and informed. I'll send a wireless to New York. The stewardess will take care of the little girl."
"Oh, as to that," Miss Drayton answered, "it will be only a pleasure to me. She's a dear, quaint little thing."
"That's good of you," said Captain Wards, heartily. "I was about to ask you—you're so kind and have made friends with her, you see—to tell her that her uncle isn't here."
"Oh!"—Miss Drayton shrank from that bearing of bad tidings. "How can I?"
The captain looked uncomfortable. "It is a good deal to ask," he admitted. "I suppose I—or the stewardess—"
"But no. Poor little one!" Miss Drayton took herself in hand as she thought of the shy, lonely child. "She must be told. And, as you say, I've made friends with her, so it may come less hard from me. Leave it to me, then, captain." And she went slowly back to Anne whose face clouded at seeing her new friend alone.
"I thought Uncle Carey would come back with you," she said. "Please—where is he?"
"Anne, when was the last time that you saw Uncle Carey?" inquired Miss Drayton.
"A little while before the steamer left New York," answered Anne. "He said he was going to walk around. And he was down there on the—the platform below."
"The dock? On shore, you mean, and not on the steamer?"