"I believe I'm going with them," he said, "there is nothing I can do here. If anything comes up, you will decide. The fact is, I can't stand it, all day in suspense."
"Then don't keep the boat waiting," said Missy, with ungraciousness. The truth was, she wanted to go so wildly herself, she hated him for being able to do what she could not. What was the suspense more to him than to her, she thought. She must count all these dreadful hours at home, while he could feel he was nearer, every moment, to some certainty, good or bad, which must be so many hours further off from her. In a moment more he had sprung aboard the little boat, and they were off.
All this while Gabrielle had been wandering about, silent and eager. At first she had been questioned, with few results, as to her knowledge of the events of the night. She had denied, generally, having been awake or knowing anything till Eliza had waked her up in her fright at finding Jay's crib empty. Then, in the hurry and panic, she had dropped out of notice. Missy found her standing beside her on the lawn, watching the boat go off. A sudden doubt came into Missy's mind as she saw the child's keen, silent face.
"What was Alphonsine's last name?" she said to her, without preface.
"Gatineau," she answered, promptly.
"When did you see her last?" she asked, looking at her narrowly.
"I—I—don't know—" faltered the child, turning her eyes away.
"Yes, you do know, Gabby," said Missy, firmly. "Tell me quickly. Did you see her yesterday?"
"I promised not to tell," returned the child, faintly.
"Come into the house with me," said Missy, taking her by the hand with no uncertain grasp. "I want to talk to you about all this."