It was a dreadful night for her, poor bankrupt girl--bankrupt in happiness from that hour. Mrs. Webb persuaded her to go to bed at last; and there she lay getting through the hours as the unhappy do get through them. But, miserable though it was, it would have been far more so could she have seen, as in a mirror, what had taken place that night at Greylands in the Friar's Keep--the disappearance of Anthony Castlemaine, and its cause. CHAPTER IX. A CURIOUS STORY. A bright and cheery morning with a soft westerly breeze. The flowing sea sparkled in the sunlight; the little boats danced upon its waves; the birds on the land sang merry songs to one another, cheated into a belief that spring had come in. There had been commotion in the streets of Stilborough on the previous day, and especially around the banker's door, as we have already seen; but that commotion was open and above board, as compared with the stir that was this morning agitating Greylands. For, report was running wildly about that some mysterious and unaccountable disaster had happened to Anthony Castlemaine. Anthony Castlemaine had disappeared. There was no other word, save that, applicable to the event: he had disappeared. And as Greylands had taken a warm fancy to the young man, it rose up in great agitation. Almost with morning light the village was being searched for him and inquiry made. People turned out of their cottages, fishermen left their boats, some of the Grey Sisters even came forth from the Nunnery: all eagerly asking what and how much was true. The originator of the rumour was John Bent. He did not seem to know a great deal more than other people; but nobody, save him, knew anything at all. The Dolphin Inn was besieged; work was at a standstill; Mrs. Bent allowed even her servant, Molly, to stand listening, with her arms akimbo, unreproved. The story told by John Bent was a curious one. And, it should be intimated, that, but for the fears stirring within the landlord's own breast, the disappearance would not have been thought so much of at this early stage. But John Bent had caught up the fear that some fatal harm had chanced to the young man in fact, that he had been murdered! The landlord could not account for this strong impression; he acknowledged that: but it was there, and he freely spoke it out. The substance of the tale he told was as follows.