itation he dived into the water.

He would have been wiser if he had waited until she floated to the
surface, for now he found a difficulty in regaining the boat. After a
great deal of trouble, he managed to reach into the launch and pull out
a rope, which he fastened round the girl's waist and drew tight to a
small stanchion. Then he climbed into the boat himself, and pulled her
after him.

He thought at first she was dead, but listening intently he heard the
beating of her heart, and searched the luncheon basket for a small flask
of liqueurs, which Alphonse, the head waiter, had packed. He put the
bottle to her lips and poured a small quantity into her mouth. She
choked convulsively, and presently opened her eyes.

"You're amongst friends," said Marcus unnecessarily.

She sat up and covered her face with her hands. It all came back to her
in a flash, and the horror of it froze her blood.

"What has happened to you?" asked Marcus.

"I don't know exactly," she said faintly. And then: "Oh, it was
dreadful, dreadful!"

Marcus Stepney offered her the flask of liqueurs, and when she shook her
head, he helped himself liberally.

Lydia was conscious of a pain in her left shoulder. The sleeve was torn,
and across the thick of the arm there was an ugly raw weal.

"It looks like a bullet mark to me," said Marcus Stepney, suddenly
grave. "I heard a shot. Did somebody shoot at you?"

She nodded.

"Who?"

She tried to frame the word, but no sound came, and then she burst into
a fit of weeping.

"Not Jean?" he asked hoarsely.

She shook her head.

"Briggerland?"

She nodded.

"Briggerland!" Mr. Stepney whistled, and as he whistled he shivered.
"Let's get out of here," he said. "We shall catch our death of cold. The
sun will warm us up."

He started the engines going, and safely navigated the narrow passage to
the open sea. He had to get a long way out before he could catch a
glimpse of the road, then he saw the car, and a cycling policeman
dismounting and bending over something. He put away his telescope and
turned to the girl.

"This is bad, Mrs. Meredith," he said. "Thank God I wasn't in it."

"Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"I'm taking you out to sea," said Marcus with a little smile. "Don't get
scared, Mrs. Meredith. I want to hear that story of yours, and if it is
anything like what I fear, then it would be better for you that
Briggerland thinks you are dead."

She told the story as far as