Neither did I feel quite safe about Kate Daltrey.  She gave me the impression of being as crafty and cunning as she described her half-brother.  Did she know this woman by sight?  That was a question I could not answer.  There was another question hanging upon it.  If she saw her, would she not in some way contrive to give her a sufficient hint, without positively breaking her promise to Julia?  Kate Daltrey’s name did not appear in the newspapers among the list of visitors, as she was staying in a private house; but she and this woman might meet any day in the streets or on the pier.

Then the whole story had been confided by Julia at once to Captain Carey and Johanna.  That was quite natural; but it was equally natural for them to confide it again to some one or two of their intimate friends.  The secret was already an open one among six persons.  Could it be considered a secret any longer?  The tendency of such a singular story, whispered from one to another, is to become in the long-run more widely circulated than if it were openly proclaimed.  I had a strong affection for my circle of cousins, which widened as the circle round a stone cast into water; but I knew I might as well try to arrest the eddying of such waters as stop the spread of a story like Olivia’s.

I had resolved, in the first access of my curiosity, to cross over to Sark the next week, alone and independent of Captain Carey.  Every Monday the Queen of the Isles made her accustomed trip to the island, to convey visitors there for the day.

I had not been on deck two minutes the following Monday when I saw my patient step on after me.  The last clew was in her fingers now, that was evident.

CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SECOND.

OLIVIA GONE.

She did not see me at first; but her air was exultant and satisfied.  There was no face on board so elated and flushed.  I kept out of her way as long as I could without consigning myself to the black hole of the cabin; but at last she caught sight of me, and came down to the forecastle to claim me as an acquaintance.

“Ha! ha!  Dr. Dobree!” she exclaimed; “so you are going to visit Sark too?”

“Yes,” I answered, more curtly than courteously.

“You are looking rather low,” she said, triumphantly—­“rather blue, I might say.  Is there any thing the matter with you?  Your face is as long as a fiddle.  Perhaps it is the sea that makes you melancholy.”

“Not at all,” I answered, trying to speak briskly; “I am an old sailor.  Perhaps you will feel melancholy by-and-by.”

Luckily for me, my prophecy was fulfilled shortly after, for the day was rough enough to produce uncomfortable sensations in those who were not old sailors like myself.  My tormentor was prostrate to the last moment.

When we anchored at the entrance of the Creux, and the small boats came out to carry us ashore, I managed easily to secure a place in the first, and to lose sight of her in the bustle of landing.  As soon as my feet touched the shore I started off at my swiftest pace for the Havre Gosselin.