iffs on the
Basin side of the South Head, where an outcrop of big basalt rocks
occurred, and was always of so dark and gloomy and weird a character
that it was generally shunned even during the hours of daylight, while
at night time nobody ever went near the place if they could possibly
avoid it. As I drew near it I once or twice fancied that someone was
following me, and, thinking that it might possibly be Gurney, I waited
to let him overtake me; but as nobody appeared I supposed I must have
been mistaken, and went on again, presently arriving among the rocks.
The next moment two figures emerged from among the shadows, and Gurney
and his sweetheart stood before me.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

THE GREAT ADVENTURE.

"Ah! here you are, Gurney, and Miss Hartley, too," I exclaimed. "That
is good; better, indeed, than I dared hope, for I did not expect to see
you, Miss Hartley, at least for another two or three hours."

"No," answered Grace; "nor did I expect to be here so soon. But a lucky
chance enabled me to get my box out of the hut unobserved, and, George
happening to come to my window soon afterward to make his final
arrangements, we seized the opportunity and came straight away at once.
Mrs Pierson, with whom I have been staying, believes me to be in bed
with a bad headache. I made my escape through the window."

"Excellent!" said I. "Then I suppose we may set to work almost at once,
may we not, Gurney?"

"Yes, as soon as you please, Mr Troubridge," answered Gurney. "But I
think it would be wise to give everybody a chance to get home and into
bed first. It would be rather awkward if anybody should happen to be
out late, taking a walk on the Head, and should see us."

"That is true; it would," said I. "Which reminds me that as I came
along the beach, on my way here just now, I once or twice had an
impression of being followed. I thought that possibly it might be you,
and waited for you to overtake me; but nothing came of it."

"It is a case of `guilty conscience', I expect, Mr Troubridge," laughed
Gurney. "Why should anyone follow you? Nobody can possibly suspect us,
for neither Grace nor I--nor you either, I suppose--have ever breathed a
word of this to a single soul, not even to each other when there has
been the slightest chance of our being overheard."

"No, of course not; it was my fancy, perhaps," I answered. "I must
plead guilty to having felt a trifle anxious and nervous during the last
few da