It was some time before any one spoke. Geoffrey was turning the whole matter over in his mind. He was still puzzled.

"I don't understand it," he said. "Of course, I follow all you say, and I see the nature of the plot intended to end us all at one fell swoop. But why do you want to have that woman under the roof?"

"Because so long as she is under the roof she is comparatively harmless," Tchigorsky explained. "The princess is hot and vengeful and passionate, but she has her vein of caution and will take no unnecessary risks. She will be bewildered and will not know whether she had been suspected or not. The more cordial to her you are the more suspicious she will be. Of course, she will make up some plausible tale to account for her intrusion, and, of course, you must pretend to believe it. It will be impossible to move her for a day or two, and here I come in."

"In what way?" Geoffrey asked.

"In the way of having a free hand," Tchigorsky said, with a smile. "The princess will be cut off from her allies, and I shall be able to ransack her private papers for one thing."

Geoffrey nodded. He began to see the force of Tchigorsky's clever scheme. And then the cold solitude of the house struck him. For a moment he had forgotten all about the family still on the beach and the agony they were suffering on his account.

"I suppose you can do no more to-night?" he asked.

"I am not so sure of that," Tchigorsky said dryly. "Meanwhile I can safely rest for an hour or so. I am going to lie hidden in Ralph's bedroom for the present and smoke his tobacco. Do you want anything?"

"I should like to relieve the minds of my friends," said Geoffrey.

"That of course," Tchigorsky responded. "Go at once. You were picked up by a passing boat—or yacht—that landed you at Manby. You walked back and when you got home to change your clothes you found the place deserted. Don't say anything as to Mrs. May. Your Uncle Ralph will have that story to tell when you return. You are not to know anything about Mrs. May."

"All right," Geoffrey said cheerfully. "Now I'll be off."

He made his way down the cliffs unseen. There were lanterns flitting about the shore; he could see the flash of Marion's white dress and Vera by her side. He came gently alongside them.

"Vera," he said. "What is all this about?"

Vera turned and gave a cry. She was acting her part as well as possible, and the cry seemed genuine. But the tears in her eyes were tears of thankfulness that the sufferings of those dear to her were ended. She clung to her lover; her lips pressed his.

Marion stood there white and still as a statue. The girl seemed to be frozen. Geoffrey's touch thawed her into life again.

"Geoffrey!" she screamed, "Geoffrey! Thank God, thank God! Never again will I——"

With another scream that rang high and clear, the girl fell unconscious at his feet. He raised her up tenderly as the others came rushing forward. There was a babel of confused cries, hoarse cheers, and yells of delight. The villagers were running wild along the sands. Scores of men pressed eagerly round to shake Geoffrey's hand.

"I was picked up by a yacht," he said. "Of course I know there was foul play. I know all about the broken mast and the sawn oars. You may rest assured I will take more care another time. And I was——"

Geoffrey was going to say that he had been warned, but he checked himself in time. His progress toward home was more or less a royal one. It touched him to see how glad people were. He had not imagined a popularity like this.

Vera clung fondly to his arm; Rupert Ravenspur walked proudly on the other side. Not once had the old man showed the slightest sign of breaking down, but he came perilously near to it at the present time. Marion held to him trembling. She felt it almost impossible to drag herself along.

"You are quaking from head to foot," said Ravenspur.

"I am," Marion admitted. "And at the risk of increasing your displeasure I should say you are very little better, dear grandfather. I fear the shock of seeing Geoffrey after all this fearful suspense has been too much for you."

Ravenspur admitted the fact. He was glad to find himself at home again, glad to be rid of the rocking, cheering crowd outside, and glad to see Geoffrey opposite him. Marion, pale as death, had dropped into a chair.

"I am going to give you all some wine," said Geoffrey. "You need it. Please do not let us discuss my adventure any more. Let us drop the subject."

Ralph glided in, feeling his way into the room. He congratulated Geoffrey as coolly as he would have done in the most trite circumstances. He was acting his part in his own wooden, stupid way.

"I also have had my adventures," he croaked.

"I hope the castle is all right," Ravenspur observed.

"The same idea occurred to me," Ralph went on. "One so afflicted as myself could not be of much service on the beach, so I came back to the castle. It occurred to me as possible that our enemy would take advantage of the place being deserted. So I passed the time wandering about the corridors.

"A little time ago I heard a violent commotion and screaming outside Geoffrey's room. I got to the spot as soon as possible, but when I arrived the noise had ceased. Then I stumbled over the body of a woman."

"Woman?" Ravenspur cried. "Impossible!"

"Not in the least," Ralph said coolly. "I picked her up, she was unconscious. My medical knowledge, picked up in all parts of the world, told me that the woman was suffering from some physical shock. That she was not in any danger her steady pulse showed. I placed her on the bed in the blue room."

"And there she is now?" Marion exclaimed.

"So far as I know," Ralph replied. "What she was doing here I haven't the slightest idea."

"And you don't know who she is?" Mrs. Gordon asked.

"How should I? I am blind. I should say that the woman was up to no good here; but I dare say it is possible that she has some decent excuse. On the other hand, she might be one of our deadly foes. Anyway, there she is, and there she is likely to be for some time to come."

Marion rose to her feet.

"Uncle Ralph," she said, "I feel that I could shake you. Have you no feeling?"

"We can't all have your tender heart," Ralph said meekly.

Marion ignored the compliment. She took up the decanter and poured out a glass of wine.

"I am going upstairs at once," she said. "Enemy or no enemy, the poor creature cannot be neglected. You need not come, Vera."

Vera, too, had risen to her feet. She was not going to be put aside.

"But I am coming," she said. "I will not allow you to go up those stairs alone. And Geoffrey shall accompany us."

Marion said no more. She seemed strangely anxious and restless.

Geoffrey followed with a lamp in his hands. Mrs. May lay quietly there, breathing regularly and apparently in a deep sleep.

Marion bent over the bed. As she did so she gasped and the color left her face. She fell away with a cry like fear.

"Oh," she shuddered. "Oh, it is Mrs. May!"

Vera bent over the bed. She unfastened the dress at the throat.

"What does it matter?" she said. "I know you don't like the woman, but she is suffering. Marion, where are your tender feelings?"

Marion said nothing. But she came directly to Vera's side. And Geoffrey glancing at Marion's rigid white face wondered what it all meant.