“Did you speak to Ann, Mr. Charles?”
“Oh yes; just a few words. There was not time for much conversation; Louise was late.”
Miss Preen felt a little shaken.
“Was Ann alone?”
“No; she was with Captain Fennel.”
And, with that, a suspicion of the truth, and the full horror of it, dawned upon Lavinia Preen. She grasped Madame Carimon’s arm and turned white as death.
“It never can be,” she whispered, her lips trembling: “it never can be! She cannot have—have—run away—with that man!”
Unconsciously perhaps to herself, her eyes were fixed on Charles. He thought the question was put to him, and answered it.
“Well—I—I’m afraid it looks like it, as she seems to have said nothing to you,” he slowly said. “But I give you my word, Miss Preen, that until this moment that aspect of the matter never suggested itself to me. I supposed they were just going up the line together for some purpose or other; though, in fact, I hardly thought about it at all.”