“Good!” said Muriel, reading what he had written. Harrington rose.
“I must leave you,” said he, taking up his hat.
“Oh, but stay and dine with us,” she pleaded.
“Indeed, I can’t,” he replied. “I must go and relieve the Captain, who is watching over Antony, and wondering what has become of me.”
“True,” she answered. “And I must go make my toilette, for I am in a state. But, John, when shall I see you again? You know we have this matter of Emily and Wentworth to look into.”
“I declare I forgot it. This business quite drove it from my mind,” exclaimed Harrington, quickly. “What have you heard?”
“Not a word,” she answered. “Emily appeared at breakfast with the story of a sleepless night in her poor lack-lustre eyes. I said nothing, for I had no chance, and since then she has kept herself locked up in her chamber. There is something passing strange in this. Have you seen Wentworth?”
“No, Muriel. It is the first day I have not seen him for I know not how long. I should have gone in search of him to get at the bottom of this matter, but for my strange adventure last night. And Emily—I declare I must see Emily, for I have something to say to her.”
“About this, John?”
“No.” Harrington colored. “About something else.”