But he was doomed to disappointment; for in the concert-
room at Dennis Wayman's tavern he found a new singer--a fat, middle-
aged woman, with red hair.
"What has become of the pretty girl who used to sing here?" he asked
the landlord.
"Milsom's daughter?" said Wayman. "Oh, we've lost her She was a regular
she-devil, it seems. Her father and she had a row, and the girl ran
away. She can get her living anywhere with that voice of hers; and I
don't suppose Milsom treated her over well. He's a rough fellow, but an
honest one."
"Yes," answered Joyce, with a sneer; "he seems uncommonly honest.
There's a good deal of that sort of honesty about this neighbourhood, I
think, mate. I suppose you've heard about my captain?"
"Not a syllable. Is there anything wrong with him?"
"Ah! news seems to travel slowly down here. There was an inquest held
this morning, not so many miles from this house."
The landlord shrugged his shoulders.
"I've been busy in-doors all day, and I haven't heard anything," he
said.
Joyce told the story of his captain's fate, to which Dennis Wayman
listened with every appearance of sympathy.
"And you've no idea what has become of the girl?" Harker asked, after
having concluded his story.
"No more than the dead. She's cut and run, that's all I know."
"Has her father gone after her?"
"Not a bit of it. He's not that sort of man.
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