"No one to see you?"
"No one at all, Captain."
Coppinger did not remove his hat; he stood in the doorway biting his thumb. Was it possible that Judith had shrunk from coming to his house to bear the message? Yet she had promised to do so. Had she been intercepted by the Preventive men? Had—had she reached the top of the cliff? Had she, after reaching the top, lost her way in the dark, taken a false direction, and—Coppinger did not allow the thought to find full expression in his brain. He turned, without another word, and hastened to the cottage of Mr. Menaida. He must ascertain whether she had reached home.
Uncle Zachie had not retired to bed; Scantlebray had been gone an hour; Zachie had drunk with Scantlebray, and he had drunk after the departure of that individual to indemnify himself for the loss of his company. Consequently Mr. Menaida was confused in mind and thick in talk.
"Where is Judith?" asked Coppinger, bursting in on him.
"In bed, I suppose," answered Uncle Zachie, after a while, when he comprehended the question, and had had time to get over his surprise at seeing the Captain.
"Are you sure? When did she come in?"
"Come in?" said the old man, scratching his forehead with his pipe. "Come in—bless you, I don't know; some time in the afternoon. Yes, to be sure it was, some time in the afternoon."
"But she has been out to-night?"
"No—no—no," said Uncle Zachie, "it was Scantlebray."
"I say she has—she has been to—" he paused, then said—"to see her aunt."
"Aunt Dunes! bless my heart, when?"
"To-night."
"Impossible!"
"But I say she has. Come, Mr. Menaida. Go up to her room, knock at the door, and ascertain if she be back. Her aunt is alarmed—there are rough folks about."
"Why, bless me!" exclaimed Mr. Menaida, " so there are. And—well, wonders'll never cease. How came you here? I thought the guard were after you. Scantlebray said so."
