“That will complicate our search,” said Glenarvan, somewhat disconcerted. “How can we possibly find traces of the captives in the heart of so vast a continent?”
No one replied, though Lady Helena’s questioning glances at her companions seemed to press for an answer. Paganel even was silent. His ingenuity for once was at fault. John Mangles paced the cabin with great strides, as if he fancied himself on the deck of his ship, evidently quite nonplussed.
“And you, Mr. Ayrton,” said Lady Helena at last, “what would you do?”
“Madam,” replied Ayrton, readily enough, “I should re-embark in the DUNCAN, and go right to the scene of the catastrophe. There I should be guided by circumstances, and by any chance indications we might discover.”
“Very good,” returned Glenarvan; “but we must wait till the DUNCAN is repaired.”
“Ah, she has been injured then?” said Ayrton.
“Yes,” replied Mangles.
“To any serious extent?”
“No; but such injuries as require more skilful workmanship than we have on board. One of the branches of the screw is twisted, and we cannot get it repaired nearer than Melbourne.”
“Well, let the ship go to Melbourne then,” said Paganel, “and we will go without her to Twofold Bay.”