evenly.

"Rather badly up forward. She was settling fast when they beached her in
the Bay."

"And then," she continued after a pause, "Doctor Wallis and I got ashore
as quickly as we could. We got a lantern and came along the cliffs. And
two of the men took our big lifeboat and rowed along near the shore.
They found the _Blackbird_ pounding on the rocks, and we found Steve
Ferrara where you left him. And we followed you here by the blood you
spattered along the way."

A line from the Rhyme of the Three Sealers came into MacRae's mind as
befitting. But he was thinking of his father and not so much of himself
as he quoted:

"'Sorrow is me, in a lonely sea,
And a sinful fight I fall.'"

"I'm afraid I don't quite grasp that," Betty said. "Although I know
Kipling too, and could supply the rest of those verses. I'm afraid I
don't understand."

"It isn't likely that you ever will," MacRae answered slowly. "It is not
necessary that you should."

Their voices ceased. In the stillness the whistle of the wind and the
deep drone of the seas shattering themselves on the granite lifted a
dreary monotone. And presently a quick step sounded on the porch. Doctor
Wallis came hurriedly in.

"Upon my soul," he said apologetically. "I ought to be shot, Miss
Grower. I got everybody calmed down over at the cottage and chased them
all to bed. Then I sat down in a soft chair before that cheerful fire in
your living room. And I didn't wake up for hours. You must be worn out."

"That's quite all right," Betty assured him. "Don't be
conscience-stricken. Did mamma have hysterics?"

Wallis grinned cheerfully.

"Well, not quite," he drawled. "At any rate, all's quiet along the
Potomac now. How's the patient getting on?"

"I'm O.K.," MacRae spoke for himself, "and much obliged to you both for
tinkering me up. Miss Gower ought to go home."

"I think so myself," Wallis said. "I'll take her across the point. Then
I'll come back and have another look over you."

"It isn't necessary," MacRae declared. "Barring a certain amount of
soreness I feel fit enough. I suppose I could get up and walk now if I
had to. Go home and go to bed, both of you."

"Good night, or perhaps it would be better to say good morning." Betty
gave him her hand. "Pleasant dreams."

It seemed to MacRae that there was a touch of reproach, a hint of the
sardonic in her tone and words.

Then he was alone in the quiet house, with his th