and so out of the door on to the moor. The night air was heavy
with the scent of the dew-laden heather, across which they had to grope
their way, and the croak of a fern owl alone broke the stillness as they
skirted the golf links and came to the head of the chine at the foot of
which they were to flash the signals that would summon the _Cobra's_
launch.

They were about to descend the steps cut in the cliff, when from the
house they had just left, a quarter of a mile away, the "teuf-teuf" of a
motor car was heard. Leslie found himself idly wondering what could have
taken Nugent from home again so late. Possibly he was going down to the
club for an hour or two, to drown the memory of his villainy in the
congenial company of gentlemen who would have spurned him from their
midst could they have known the manner of man he was.

"Now, sir; mind where you're going," came Tuke's hoarse whisper.
"There's only a handrail in places, and a nasty drop if you fall."

The warning recalled Leslie to himself, and he gave his attention to the
steep descent. In a little while they stood on the pebbly beach below,
where the incoming tide was making gentle music on the smooth stones. No
glimmer came across the dark sea to tell them whether the _Cobra_ lay
out yonder in the inky pall, but that meant nothing. Nugent, they knew,
had given the captain orders to veil all lights before he arrived
opposite the town.

Tuke produced two cardboard cylinders from under his coat, and, striking
a match, applied it to the conical head of one of them. There was a
spluttering fizzle, and the flare burst out into a brilliant blue flame
that shone steadily seaward, but was hidden from the coastguard station
and the parade by a jutting angle of the cliff wall. For two minutes it
glowed, and when it flickered out he repeated the illumination with the
green flare, carefully picking up the empty cases when his pyrotechnic
display was over.

"There!" he whispered huskily. "Now all there is to do is to squat down
and wait. The boss said the launch is a quick 'un to travel. If the
steamer's no more than three miles out she ought to do it in twenty
minutes--with the tide in her favour."

The forecast proved accurate. In a very little over the time mentioned
the click-clack of an electric motor was heard approaching the shore
from the gloom, and Leslie, catching up the small handbag which was all
the luggage he had dared remove from his lodgings, went down to