“Did she speak to you?” asked John Tanerton.
“Yes, sir. Leastways she made just a remark—‘What, that fire out again?’ she said. That was all, sir.”
“Go on,” sharply cried Sir Dace.
“About ten minutes later, I was at the front-door, letting out the water-rate—who is sure to call, as my missis told him, at the most ill-convenient time—when Miss Verena came softly down the stairs with her bonnet and mantle on. I felt surprised. ‘Don’t shut me in, Maria, when I want to go out,’ she said to me in a laughing sort of way, and I pulled the door back and begged her pardon. That was all, sir.”
“How was she dressed?” asked Coralie.
“I couldn’t say,” answered the girl; “except that her clothes were dark. Her black veil was down over her face; I noticed that; and she had a little carpet-bag in her hand.”
So there we were, no wiser than before. Verena had taken flight, and it was impossible to say whither.
They were for running all over the world. The Squire would have started forthwith, and taken the top of the Monument to begin with. John Tanerton, departing on his search to find Pym’s lodgings, found we all meant to attend him, including Ozias.
“Better let me go alone,” said Jack. “I am Pym’s master at sea, and can perhaps exercise some little authority on shore. Johnny Ludlow can go with me.”