ware of
an annoying sense of shame, which he considered rather low on the part
of his conscience. True, he had followed her; true, he had watched her
at a moment when she had every reason to believe herself alone with the
sky, the sand, the sea and the squabbling gulls. But--the beach was free
to all; there was no harm done; he hadn't really meant to spy upon her,
and he had not the slightest intention of forcing himself upon her
consciousness.

Intentions, however, are one thing; accidents, another entirely. History
is mainly fashioned of intentions that have met with accidents.

Whitaker turned to go, and turning let his gaze sweep up from the beach
and along the brow of the bluff. He paused, frowning. Some twenty feet
or so distant the legs of a man, trousered and booted, protruded from a
hollow between two hummocks of sand. And the toes of the boots were
digging into the sand, indicating that the man was lying prone; and that
meant (if he were neither dead nor sleeping) that he was watching the
woman on the beach.

Indignation, righteous indignation, warmed Whitaker's bosom. It was all
very well for him to catch sight of the woman through her cottage
window, by night, and to swim over to the beach in her wake the next
morning, but what right had anybody else to constitute himself her
shadow?... All this on the mute evidence of the boots and trousers:
Whitaker to his knowledge had never seen them before, but he had so
little doubt they belonged to the other watcher by the window last night
that he readily persuaded himself that this must be so.

Besides, it was possible that the man was Drummond.

Anyway, nobody was licensed to skulk among sand-dunes and spy upon
unescorted females!

Instantly Whitaker resolved himself into a select joint committee for
the Promulgation of the Principles of Modern Chivalry and the
Elucidation of the Truth.

He strode forward and stood over the man, looking down at his back. It
was true, as he had assumed: the fellow was watching the woman. Chin in
hands, elbows half-buried in sand, he seemed to be following her with an
undeviating regard. And his back was very like Drummond's; at least, in
height and general proportion his figure resembled Drummond's closely
enough to leave Whitaker without any deterring doubt.

A little quiver of excitement mingled with anticipative satisfaction ran
through him. Now, at last, the mystery was to be cleared up, his future
relations with the p