She gave a negative, only to be obliged to repeat it to several
questions in quick succession.

"Seen him this morning?"

"Seen him last night?"

"Happen to know where he would likely be?"

The growing feeling of distress in Ann's mind made the shake of her head
more and more emphatic. She was of course an object of more or less pity
to every one at that time, and the intruder made an explanation that had
some tone of apology.

"Oh, well, I didn't know but as you might have happened to have seen him
since he came back. His boat's there at the landing all right, but his
mother's not seen him up to the house."

During the day Ann heard the same tale in several different forms.
Toyner was one of those quiet men not often in request by his
neighbours; and as he was known at present to have reason possibly for
hidden movements in search of his quarry, there was not that hue and cry
raised concerning the presence of the boat and the absence of the owner
that would have been aroused in the case of some other; still, the
interest in his whereabouts gradually grew, and Ann heard the talk about
it. Within her own heart an unexpressed terror grew stronger and
stronger. It was founded upon the sense of personal responsibility. She
alone knew the secret mission upon which Toyner had left; she alone knew
of the glimpse of her father which she had caught the night before, and
she doubted now whether she had seen a spirit or visible man. What had