Mr. Dugdale stated briefly, and as if it had been the most matter-of-fact thing in the world, how he meant to go to the owners of the _Ardente_ and get the first tidings of her there; how, if neither that nor any rumours he could catch in and about the docks, were satisfactory, he should hire a small steamer and beat up and down Channel, calling in at all the ports where it was likely boats might have been picked up. “They would be, probably, in twenty-four hours or so. If we don't hear in three days--three days at this time of year”--he stopped with a perceptible shudder--“then, Agatha,” and Duke's gentle voice grew gentler, and solemn like a psalm, “then, my child, we'll go home.” Agatha bowed her head. Bodily exhaustion calmed her mind, and soothed her into a feeling which made even the last dread alternative less fearful. She felt a conviction that such “going home” would only be a prelude to the last going home of all, when she should never part from her husband more. She did not much mind now, even if all were to end so. Perhaps it would be best. They got out of the carriage. All her limbs were cramped--she could hardly stand. Mr. Dugdale took her unresisting, to a quiet inn he knew, and there made her lie down and take food. Somehow, even in the last extremity, Duke Dugdale could win people over to do his pleasure, which was always for their own good.. He sat by her and talked, but only for a few minutes--he had no thought of wasting even in kindness the time on which might hang life or death. “I am going now, and you must stay here till my return, which is sure not to be for at least two hours.” “Two hours!--Oh, take me with you!” Duke shook his head. “You would only hinder me, I fear. See there, now!” Trying to rise and cross the parlour, she had nearly fallen. A drowsy weakness stole over her--she let her good brother have his own way entirely. Very soon she found herself alone in the parlour, lying in the dusky light of closed blinds, with the dull murmur creeping up from the street--lying quietly in a state of passive patience.