"Well, this morning, when I woke up—I didn't sleep much to speak of last night—I got to thinking about—her. And I made up my mind that I'd go look her up, and—and be a friend to her anyhow." His voice broke. "I was fond of her, Miss Milo."
"She was gone?"
He nodded. "She'd been gone since the night before. Went out, the maid said, with no hat on and a letter in her hand—for the post. And she hadn't come back. I tell you, that worried me. I was half-crazy." He tried to control his voice, to keep back the tears.
"Then it's very bad news," ventured Farvel. He laid a hand on the other man's sleeve.
"I went over to the St. Clair house," Hull went on. "Clare hadn't been there. Then—I knew. So I went to the one place—that was likely——"
"You mean——" asked Farvel. "Oh, not that! Not that!"
"She was there. She'd spoken about the river. That's why I was sure."
"The river!" gasped Sue. "Oh, what are you saying?"
"She'd done as she said," answered Hull, quietly.
Sue sank to a bench. "Oh, that cry of hers, yesterday!" she reminded, breaking down. "Do you remember, Mr. Farvel? When she saw you—'It's all over! It's all over!' Oh, why did I let her out of my sight!"