(Continued from page 143.)

With the thought that Thomas might put to sea, a multitude of questions came to Marjorie's mind. How had he managed to let the ship's crew know? Was its presence there due to Thomas at all? Who was the man with him? Was he a man who could have a ship when he wanted it, or was he a member of the crew? Alan said that he talked English perfectly, but with a slightly foreign accent. Perhaps the man was a Frenchman. The coastguard had considered the ship was French, with a rig altered since she was built. That would account for its coming to the help of Thomas, and no doubt the dinghy was to fetch the two men. She wondered if it was her duty to tell the coastguard all that she and Alan suspected. 'Perhaps he would only laugh at me,' she thought.

If the coastguard had been in sight she might yet have done so, but there appeared to be no one on the cliffs except herself. The pathway along the edge was quite deserted, and it was a mile or more to the signal station. Moreover, she had no hat; it had been taken off for coolness and left in the ditch, forgotten in her fright at the closing door.

The temptation to watch the little boat was too great to be resisted. If Thomas and his friend should return in it to the ship, what a grand piece of news to tell Alan! There was just a chance he might see it for himself, and she would only get a pinch for stale news; but she hoped otherwise.

Meantime the dinghy drew nearer, and to her practised eye it became evident that the men did not know the coast, for they rowed first one way and then another without finding the entrance to the Bay; they seemed afraid of submerged rocks, which might be quite covered even at the half-tide. They crept in, nevertheless, and Marjorie, for a time, lost sight of them. She crawled closer to the edge of the cliff, but she knew her position to be dangerous if she attempted to get over the light railing which had been put up on account of the crumbling condition of the edge. Further to the right the rail ceased, and the ground became a steep slope to the sea, but trees and low shrubs prevented so good a view as she had at present. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to wait.

Comforting herself with assurances that Alan was far better able to take care of himself than she was, she climbed to the top of the railing, and sat watching the strange ship. Suddenly she noticed that every stitch of canvas was being run up, and a moment later signal flags flew out at the masthead. In great excitement, she glanced down at the surging water below her, and sure enough the little boat was shooting into view, and rowing rapidly away towards the ship. In her efforts to discover what it all meant she almost forgot to look for Thomas in the boat, but when she remembered to count the men, she was disappointed to find exactly the same number that there had been at first.

Greatly puzzled, she gazed at the retreating dinghy. What had been its business, and why had the signal flown out so suddenly? Marjorie hated to be puzzled over things. 'There can be but one explanation,' she thought, 'and that is, Thomas has been too late to catch the boat, and they could not wait for him. It serves him right.' She hoped he would now be caught red-handed. The sun had sunk low in the horizon by the time the dinghy reached the vessel, and nothing could be more beautiful than the slowly sailing ship moving across the great ball of fire. It looked like a fairy craft as it sank out of sight.

Marjorie sprang to her feet. 'How late it is!' she thought, with dismay. 'I wonder where Alan is? He will be in a jolly rage when he finds I'm nowhere to be found; and all for nothing too!'

She ran lightly down the hollow, the wood looking dark and gloomy in the fading light. Fearing she might miss the way into the Smuggler's Hole, she walked more cautiously as the shadows deepened; it was fortunate she did. She had hardly gone ten yards before she heard voices so near that there was barely time to sink down behind the bushes before Thomas and his friend passed along the path towards the cliff.

'Well, what do you make of it?' she heard Thomas say in a sullen tone. 'If it was a bargain, why didn't the fellow stop?'

'That's what Fargis has to answer to me for,' returned his companion, angrily. 'Cutting away like that for no reason at all that I can see, and leaving us—— '

The voices died away, and Marjorie smiled to think how nearly she had guessed right. They had missed the boat. Now she would really have some news for Alan. She resumed her way, though the silence was not encouraging. She ought to meet Alan if he was still on the track of the men. What could he be doing if he was not? It took some careful peering into dark places to discover the entrance to the Smuggler's Hole, and even then the blackness of the steps made her hesitate. Could she get down without a ray of light? Not lacking in courage, however, she ventured to feel her way to the bottom of the first flight. There the dangers of the descent began, and she dared not proceed.

Deep silence reigned. As she stood listening, she did not know for what, she suddenly heard a faint patter of paws, and the next moment, with a whining yelp, a dog jumped up to her and careered round her feet. A touch showed her it was Bootles—Bootles, distressed and eager; now whining, now pulling at her dress, as if he wanted something very badly. Her thoughts flew at once to Alan. Perhaps those horrid men had injured him. In haste she tied a handkerchief to the dog's collar, and let him lead her into the blackness till he halted, sniffing and barking, having attained the object of his desires.

'Alan! Alan!' she called, in terror of what she might hear, yet resolved to find out why the dog was so restless.

The rocks seemed to send back echoes of her voice, and aroused fears lest Thomas might hear and return. Nevertheless she stood still and listened intently; even the dog kept quiet. Was there an answer? She could not quite make out. She must call again, though it required a great effort to do so. There was no mistake this time.

'M-a-r-j-o-r-i-e-e-e!'

Muffled, scarcely audible as it was, the voice was no echo. It appeared to come from the ground, but the dog's pulls and barks confused her. She was afraid to advance, and little imagined how near she was already to the unprotected edge of the rocky shaft down which Alan had fallen. She had seen it during their explorations, but had quite forgotten its existence. Nevertheless, she stooped to listen, and the dog crouched at her side.

(Continued on page 157.)