Mr. Barbary appeared to have an impulsive answer on his lips, but closed them before he could speak it. He glanced at me, and then turned his head and glanced at Katrine, as if to see whether she was there, for he was sitting with his back to her. A thought struck me that we were in the way of his plain speaking. "He went to London," said Mr. Barbary. "To London!" echoed the Captain. "Why, that's strange. He has not come to London, I assure you." "I can assure you it is where he told me he was going," said Mr. Barbary, smiling. "And it was to London his luggage was addressed." "Well, it is altogether strange," repeated Captain Amphlett. "I went to his chambers in the Temple yesterday, and Farnham, the barrister who shares them with him, told me Reste was still in Worcestershire; he had not heard from him for some time, and supposed he might be returning any day now. Where in the world can he be hiding himself? Had he come to London, as you suppose, Mr. Barbary, he would have sought me out the first thing." Whiter than any ghost ever seen or heard of, had grown Katrine as she listened. I could not take my eyes from her terrified face. "I do not comprehend it," resumed Captain Amphlett, looking more helpless than a rudderless ship at sea. "Are you sure, sir, that there is no mistake; that he was really going to London?" "Not at all sure; only that he said it," returned Mr. Barbary in a half mocking tone. "One does not inquire too closely, you know, into the private affairs of young men. We have not heard from him yet." "I cannot understand it at all," persisted Captain Amphlett; "or why he has not written to me; or where he can have got to. He ought to have written." "Ah, yes, no doubt," suavely remarked Mr. Barbary. "He was careless about letter-writing, I fancy. Can I offer you any refreshment?" "None at all, thank you; I have no time to spare," said the other, rising to depart. "I suppose you do not chance to know whether Reste had a letter from me last Tuesday week?" "Yes, he had one. It had some bank-notes in it. He opened it here at the breakfast table." Quite a relief passed over Captain Amphlett's perplexed face at the answer. "I am glad to hear you say that, Mr. Barbary. By his not acknowledging receipt of the money, I feared it had miscarried." Bidding us good afternoon, and telling Katrine (at whose sick state he had continued to glance curiously) that he wished her better, the stranger walked rapidly out to his fly, attended by Mr. Barbary. "Katrine," I asked, preparing to take my own departure, "what was there in Captain Amphlett to frighten you?" "It--it was the ague," she answered, bringing out the words with a jerk. "Oh--ague! Well, I'd get rid of such an ague as that. Good-bye." But it was not ague; it was sheer fear, as common sense told me, and I did not care to speculate upon it. An uneasy atmosphere seemed to be hanging over Caramel Cottage altogether; to have set in with Edgar Reste's departure.