in his mode of locomotion. While Edward was observing him, he beat slowly
up to one of Mr. Langton's servants who was standing near the door of the
inn. He seemed to question the man with affected carelessness; but his
countenance was dark and perplexed when he turned to mingle again with the
crowd. Edward lost no time in ascertaining from the servant the nature of
his inquiries. They had related to the elopement of Mr. Langton's
daughter, which was, indeed, the prevailing, if not the sole, subject of
conversation in the village.

The grounds for supposing that this man was in any way connected with the
angler were, perhaps, very slight; yet, in the perplexity of the whole
affair, they induced Edward to resolve to get at the heart of his mystery.
To attain this end, he took the most direct method,--by applying to the
man himself.

He had now retired apart from the throng and bustle of the village, and
was seated upon a condemned boat, that was drawn up to rot upon the banks
of the river. His arms were folded, and his hat drawn over his brows. The
lower part of his face, which alone was visible, evinced gloom and
depression, as did also the deep sighs, which, because he thought no one
was near him, he did not attempt to restrain.

"Friend, I must speak with you," said Edward Walcott, laying his hand upon
his shoulder, after contemplating the man a moment, himself unseen.

He started at once from his abstraction and his seat, apparently expecting
violence, and prepared to resist it; but, perceiving the youthful and
solitary intruder upon his privacy, he composed his features with much
quickness.