“It is a dreadful thing,” said the captain. “And, seemingly, a mysterious one.”
“Oh, it is dreadful,” asserted young Saxby. “What will poor Miss Verena do? I saw her just now,” he added, dropping his voice.
“Saw her where?” asked the captain, taking a step backwards.
“In the place where I’ve just met you, sir,” replied Saxby. “I was running past round the corner into the street, on my way home from Clapham, when a young lady met and passed me, going pretty nearly as quick as I was. She had her face muffled in a black veil, but I am nearly sure it was Miss Verena Fontaine. I thought she must be coming from Pym’s lodgings here.”
Captain Tanerton and his chief mate exchanged glances of intelligence under the light of the street gas-lamp. The former then turned to Saxby.
“Mr. Saxby,” said he, “I would advise you not to mention this little incident. It would not, I am sure, be pleasant to Miss Verena Fontaine’s friends to hear of it. And, after all, you are not sure that it was she.”
“Very true, sir,” replied Saxby. “I’ll not speak of it again.”
“You hear, sir,” answered Ferrar softly, as Saxby stepped on to open the house-door. “This seems to bear out what I said. And, by the way, sir, I also saw——”
“Hush!” cautiously interrupted the captain—for they had reached the door, and Mrs. Richenough stood at it.