“How should he know where we are?” dissented Coralie. “For all he can tell, Vera, we may be in the moon.”
A look of triumph crossed Vera’s face. “He knows the address in Woburn Place, Coral, for I wrote and gave it him: and Mrs. Ball would direct him here. Papa sent Ozias there to-day for his letters; and I know Edward would never cease going there, day by day, to ask for news, until he heard of me.”
Coralie laughed softly. Unlocking her writing-case, she displayed a letter that lay snugly between its leaves. It was the one that Vera had written at Woburn Place. Verena turned very angry, but Coralie made light of it.
“As I dare say he has already sailed, I confess my treachery, Vera. It was all done for your good. Better think no more of Edward Pym.”
“You wicked thing! You are more cruel than Bluebeard. I shall take means to ascertain whether the Rose of Delhi is gone. Captain Tanerton made a boast that he’d not take Edward out again, but he may not have been able to help himself,” pursued Vera, her tone significant. “Edward intended to go in her, and he has a friend at court.”
“A friend at court!” repeated Coralie. “What do you mean? Who is it?”
“It is the Freemans out-door manager at Liverpool, and the ship’s husband—a Mr. Gould. He came up here when the ship got in, and he and Edward made friends together. The more readily because Gould and Captain Tanerton are not friends. The captain complained to the owners last time of something or other connected with the ship—some bad provisions, I think, that had been put on board, and insisted on its being rectified. As Mr. Gould was responsible, he naturally resented this, and ever since he has been fit to hang Captain Tanerton.”
“How do you know all this, Verena?”
“From Edward. He told me at Crabb. Mr. Gould has a great deal more to do with choosing the officers than the Freemans themselves have, and he promised Edward he should remain in the Rose of Delhi.”