“At Mrs. Henderson’s? or Miss Mohun’s? or the Sisters’?” asked Magdalen, catching alarm from each denial. “She might have gone home with one of the girls.” “She would be wild in such a storm,” said Agatha, “and not know what she was about.” “Sister Beata and I have gone to each house,” said Mr. Flight. “When did you say you saw her last?” “I saw her when we were grouped,” said Paula; “Sister Mena, when she was helping him to put up his photos.” “The strange thing is,” said Mr. Flight, “though no doubt it will be explained, that Delrio is missing too.” “Hubert Delrio!” exclaimed Agatha. “Impossible! He must have taken her into the church to be out of the storm.” “We have tried,” said the clergyman. And as the round of suggestions began to be despairingly reiterated, he said, hesitating, “Miss Mohun told me that she thought she had seen a boat, Captain Henderson’s, she believed, in the cave with some one rocking in it; and certainly that little boat was there, when on the hope, if it can be called a hope, I ran down the steps to look.” “Would it not have been put into the boathouse out of the rain?” said Agatha. “The gardener was gone home, out of reach round the point, but we shall know to-morrow.” “He thinks they may have rowed out and been caught in the storm,” cried Paula, bursting into fresh weeping; and Magdalen saw the conjecture confirmed by Mr. Flight’s countenance. “I am afraid it is the least distressing—the least unsatisfactory idea,” said he, in much agitation. “I thought Mr. Delrio an excellent young man; and she,” indicating his companion, “tells me you know him and his family well.” “Oh, yes,” said Agatha and Magdalen in one breath. “We have known his father all our lives. Nothing can be more respectable.” “And Hubert is as steady and good as possible,” continued Agatha. “His mother used to come to Mrs. Best and praise him, till we were quite tired of his name; I am sure he is all right.” “Or I should be much deceived in him,” said the clergyman. Yet there was an idea in Paulina’s mind. Could Vera have poured out such an exaggerated tale of oppression and unhappiness as to have induced her old playfellow to carry her off to his mother at Filsted? She had given some such hint to Mr. Flight on the way; but he had not seemed to hear or attend, and he was now promising to let the sisters know as soon as possible in the morning whether anything had been discovered, and to telegraph to Filsted and to the office in London if he should see occasion.