She did not know, but she thought that Miss Beatrice was going out in the canoe. Leastways she had put on her tennis shoes, which she always wore when she went out boating.
Geoffrey understood it all now. “Come to the boat-house,” he said.
They went down to the beach, where as yet none were about except a few working people. Near the boat-house Geoffrey met old Edward walking along with a key in his hand.
“Lord, sir!” he said. “You here, sir! and in that there queer hat, too. What is it, sir?”
“Did Miss Beatrice go out in her canoe yesterday evening, Edward?” Geoffrey asked hoarsely.
“No, sir; not as I know on. My boy locked up the boat-house last night, and I suppose he looked in it first. What! You don’t mean to say——Stop; we’ll soon know. Oh, Goad! the canoe’s gone!”
There was a silence, an awful silence. Old Edward broke it.
“She’s drowned, sir—that’s what she is—drowned at last; and she the finest woman in Wales. I knewed she would be one day, poor dear! and she the beauty that she was; and all along of that damned unlucky little craft. Goad help her! She’s drowned, I say——”
Betty burst out into loud weeping at his words.
“Stop that noise, girl,” said Geoffrey, turning his pale face towards her. “Go back to the Vicarage, and if Mr. Granger comes home before I get back, tell him what we fear. Edward, send some men to search the shore towards Coed, and some more in a sailing boat. I will walk towards the Bell Rock—you can follow me.”