terrible thing could be going to
happen next.

Presently, just when Mr. Chase was getting a little restless, and
Mrs. Orban began anxiously watching the door, Mr. Orban came
hurriedly into the room.

"Forgive my being so late," he said in a voice that vibrated
strangely; "but I am afraid I must detain you still for a few
minutes. The fact is, a Queensland friend of mine has just turned
up with--with some rather curious details about the wreck of the
_Cora_. He thought it would pain us less to hear them by word of
mouth than by letter, so he came himself."

"Very good of him, I'm sure," said Mr. Chase, looking surprised.
"Won't he stay and dine with us, and then afterwards--"

"Oh, of course he must stay the night!" cried Mrs. Chase
hospitably; "and this evening we can talk things over quietly when
the children have gone to bed."

"I think," said Mr. Orban, with a gravity that impressed every one
deeply, "my friend would rather have his interview at once. He is
anxious to get it over as soon as possible. I have asked him into
the boudoir, Mrs. Chase. I thought we would talk there more quietly
than here."

"Certainly," said Mrs. Chase, rising and leading the way to the
boudoir, which opened off the drawing-room.

Every one looked utterly bewildered, and Mr. Chase just a little
annoyed. It was most unprecedented that dinner should be so
delayed. Eustace noticed his father whisper something to his
mother; she started, flushed painfully, and he guessed Mr. Orban
had told her who the visitor was.

The boudoir door closed after the elders, and there was silence in
the drawing-room. Herbert became restless, and wandered about the
room opening books or fingering the ornaments in an aimless way;
Nesta stared gloomily out of the window, and Brenda tried to read.

Eustace could stand the inaction and the unsympathetic company no
longer, so, getting up, he strolled into the sweet-smelling
conservatory to be alone.

There were scents there that always wafted him in memory back
home--he loved the warmth and the plants. There was a large oval
stage covered with flowers in the centre, and round this he
strolled towards the outer door.

So it was about the wreck Bob had come to speak. What more painful
news could he have to bring than they already knew? The boy's
common sense told him that the details must have to do with the
death of Aunt Dorothy; nothing of less importance could have
brought Bob over. Perhaps he had me