It was long before he slept, and his slumber was disturbed by many an uneasy dream. When he awoke, in the early morning light, there was a good deal of commotion on deck. On going to see what was the matter, he found that the body of Ann Price, alias “Jem Bax,” had disappeared. At first the man who had been left in the position of watcher professed to know nothing about the strange disappearance. But, upon being questioned with some shrewdness by Tregenna, he confessed that a small boat had come alongside about two hours before daybreak, with a couple of men whom he did not know, who asked what had become of “Jem.” With a sailor’s superstition, he had been only too glad to tell them of what had happened, and to let them carry away the body in their boat, still covered with Tregenna’s cloak. The last he had seen of them was that, in the gray dawn, they had reached the shore, and landed their silent burden with difficulty on the beach, when the tide was out and the rocks lay bare and cold in the morning mist. CHAPTER XIX. A VERY WOMAN. It was with strangely mixed feelings that Tregenna heard this story of the carrying away of the body of “Jem Bax,” the smuggler. Knowing, as he did, that it was a woman who had been thus borne across the water to her last resting-place, and with the memory of that farewell interview strong upon him, he was stirred, in spite of himself, by the thought of that swift and silent passage across the water to the shore; and he seemed to be able to see, as he strained his eyes in the cold morning light, the smugglers’ boat with its quiet burden, gliding over the gray sea to the dim line of rocks and foam which marked the edge of the shore. The sloop had disappeared. Later in the day the lieutenant went ashore, and lost no time in making his way to the parsonage, as usual. To his surprise and dismay, he was informed by old Nance, who opened the door to him, that Miss Joan had gone away that very morning. “Gone away!” repeated Tregenna, in stupefaction. “But whither?” “That’s more’n I can tell you, sir,” grumbled Nance, who seemed in an ill-humor, as if resenting her own position of ignorance. “But if you’ll step in, maybe the master’ll be able to tell you more.” So Tregenna went into the little dining-parlor, where he found the good vicar looking rather gloomy. “Hey-day!” cried Parson Langney, as soon as the young man entered, “what’s this thou hast been about, Harry, to disturb thy sweetheart’s peace as thou hast done?” “I disturb her peace!” exclaimed Tregenna. “Nay, sir, I know not. I parted with her but last night the best of friends, as indeed you very well know, since it was here I passed the evening!” “Well, she’s taken herself away, this morning, to her aunt’s at Hastings, and charged me not to tell you how to find the house.” “But, sir, how know you that I am the cause of this freak?”