I listened, I need not say, with fixed attention, and put many questions as to the more mysterious part.  It was in vain.  She had no clear idea of what the blow was, nor of how it was expected to fall.  Her father’s alarm was unfeigned and physically prostrating, and he had thought more than once of making an unconditional surrender to the police.  But the scheme was finally abandoned, for he was convinced that not even the strength of our English prisons could shelter him from his pursuers.  He had had many affairs in Italy, and with Italians resident in London, in the latter years of his business; and these last, as Clara fancied, were somehow connected with the doom that threatened him.  He had shown great terror at the presence of an Italian seaman on board the “Red Earl,” and had bitterly and repeatedly accused Northmour in consequence.  The latter had protested that Beppo (that was the seaman’s name) was a capital fellow, and could be trusted to the death; but Mr. Huddlestone had continued ever since to declare that all was lost, that it was only a question of days, and that Beppo would be the ruin of him yet.

I regarded the whole story as the hallucination of a mind shaken by calamity.  He had suffered heavy loss by his Italian transactions; and hence the sight of an Italian was hateful to him, and the principal part in his nightmare would naturally enough be played by one of that nation.

“What your father wants,” I said, “is a good doctor and some calming medicine.”

“But Mr. Northmour?” objected Clara.  “He is untroubled by losses, and yet he shares in this terror.”

I could not help laughing at what I considered her simplicity.

“My dear,” said I, “you have told me yourself what reward he has to look for.  All is fair in love, you must remember; and if Northmour foments your father’s terrors, it is not at all because he is afraid of any Italian man, but simply because he is infatuated with a charming English woman.”

She reminded me of his attack upon myself on the night of the disembarkation, and this I was unable to explain.  In short, and from one thing to another, it was agreed between us that I should set out at once for the fisher village, Graden Wester, as it was called, look up all the newspapers I could find, and see for myself if there seemed any basis of fact for these continued alarms.  The next morning, at the same hour and place, I was to make my report to Clara.  She said no more on that occasion about my departure; nor, indeed, did she make it a secret that she clung to the thought of my proximity as something helpful and pleasant; and, for my part, I could not have left her, if she had gone upon her knees to ask it.

I reached Graden Wester before ten in the forenoon; for in those days I was an excellent pedestrian, and the distance, as I think I have said, was little over seven miles; fine walking all the way upon the springy turf.  The village is one of the bleakest on that coast, which is saying much:  there is a church in the hollow; a miserable haven in the rocks, where many boats have been lost as they returned from fishing; two or three score of stone houses arranged along the beach and in two streets, one leading from the harbor, and another striking out from it at right angles; and, at the corner of these two, a very dark and cheerless tavern, by way of principal hotel.