The landing-stage, as Mrs. Crayford had predicted, was thronged
with spectators. Not only the relatives and friends of the Arctic
voyagers, but strangers as well, had assembled in large numbers
to see the ships sail. Clara's eyes wandered affrightedly hither
and thither among the strange faces in the crowd; searching for
the one face that she dreaded to see, and not finding it. So
completely were her nerves unstrung, that she started with a cry
of alarm on suddenly hearing Frank's voice behind her.

"The _Sea-mew_'s boats are waiting," he said. "I must go,
darling. How pale you are looking, Clara! Are you ill?"

She never answered. She questioned him with wild eyes and
trembling lips.

"Has anything happened to you, Frank? anything out of the
common?"

Frank laughed at the strange question.

"Anything out of the common?" he repeated. "Nothing that I know
of, except sailing for the Arctic seas. That's out of the common,
I suppose--isn't it?"

"Has anybody spoken to you since last night? Has any stranger
followed you in the street?"

Frank turned in blank amazement to Mrs. Crayford.