The mist was passing away from his mind, his burning fever of excitement was abated by the cool sea-breeze, and every faculty, preternaturaily sharpened by the fear of being discovered as a murderer, was at work. Of the stupid lad who had brought him to the island he felt no fear. Before the coming day's sun had set he would in all probability, have forgotten all about it, and none else knew of the visit. He would endeavor to hide all traces of guilt, and be the most zealous in the search after the lost one. Perhaps, too, suspicion might fasten on Captain Campbell, and then how amply would he be revenged! He thought of the note appointing the meeting, and felt in his pocket for it, but it was gone. No matter—so that he himself was not criminated, it mattered not.
Then came another thought: How was he to account for his absence during the night? It seemed scarcely probable that his wife had told any of the inmates of the parsonage of their angry parting and his brutal blow—she had too much pride for that—and they could easily be made to believe that sudden business had called him away. Doubtless, they would think it strange he had not told them before going; but as he had already acquired a character for eccentricity from his gloomy reserve, it would be readily set down to that. He had business at Westport—he would go there—remain for some hours, and return to N—— before night.
His plans thus rapidly arranged, he proceeded to carry immediately into execution. Lifting his head, he said, briefly:
"I have changed my mind. I will not go to N——. Take me to Westport."
Regarding him for a moment with his customary vacant stare, the boy, without a word, turned the boat in the direction indicated.
The rising sun was reddening the orient before they reached Westport. And Edgar Courtney having paid the boy, dismissed him, and sauntered about the town until the business of the day would begin.
Gradually the streets began to fill; men on their way to their daily labor passed him in groups, now and then stopping to gaze in wonder at the tall, muffled figure, pacing through the streets as though he were hastening for life or death.
He noticed this scrutiny at last, and slackened his rapid strides, muttering inwardly:
"This will never do. I must not allow my feelings to carry me away thus. I must be calm, or I may be suspected. Nothing but coolness will save me now."
Turning down the collar of his cloak, and pushing up his hat, that the cool morning air might fan his feverish brow, he turned in the direction of the Westport House.