“There is Pendleton,” exclaimed Mr. Berners, and he arose and hurried forward to meet the visitor.
“Hush! come out here a moment,” he whispered, drawing Captain Pendleton outside the chapel. “Sybil knows nothing of that verdict as yet. I wish to keep it from her knowledge as long as possible—for ever, if possible. So if you have any more bad news to tell, tell it now, and here, to me,” he added.
“Berners,” began the Captain—but then he paused in pity.
“Go on,” said Lyon.
“My friend, the flight of your wife and yourself if not absolutely ascertained, is strongly suspected. An officer watches your closed chamber door. Two others have been dispatched to Blackville, to watch the ferry. By to-morrow morning the flight, so strongly suspected now, will be fully discovered. This is all I have to say in private. And now, perhaps we had better not linger any longer here, lest Mrs. Berners may suspect something, if possible, even more alarming than the truth,” said Captain Pendleton.
“You are quite right,” admitted Lyon Berners, and they entered the chapel together.
Sybil sprang up to meet them.
“What news, Captain? Is the murderer discovered? May we return home?” she eagerly inquired.
“No, madam; the murderer has not yet been discovered, nor do I think it would be prudent in you yet to return home,” replied the Captain, feeling relieved that her questions had taken forms that enabled him to reply truly to them without divulging the alarming intelligence of the verdict of the coroner’s jury.
He unstrapped a portmanteau from his shoulders and threw it down near the fire, and seated himself upon it. Then turning to Mr. Berners, he said: