a gruff voice inquired
in a guarded undertone--

"Is the lady there?"

"Yes, I am here and ready," responded Violet eagerly; and she went down
across the pebbles to where the bows of the tiny craft nuzzled the
shore. A horny hand was stretched out to her, and she was drawn on
board. When Nugent had tossed a letter into her, the launch backed off,
and, circling round, started for the second time that night on its trip
back to the steamer.

"Pray do not wait, Mr. Nugent; I shall be really vexed if you do,"
Violet's vibrant tones rang from the fast-receding launch.

The reply was uttered so low that it reached no ears but those of Tuke,
who, like some foul bird of the night, had hovered round, taking no part
in the scene after the delivery of his alleged message.

"I have no intention of causing you any such vexation, dear lady. The
wait would, indeed, be a long one," was what Travers Nugent said, as he
turned to climb the steps to the top of the cliff.

And the subtle humour of the remark, which was apparently intelligible
to "the Bootlace Man," caused that worthy to break into a snigger of
servile laughter--the kind of merriment which the junior bar concedes to
a jest from the bench.

"That's a good 'un, sir," he wheezed. "She won't trouble you much more,
I'm thinking. But what about the little gel in the grotto? She'll make
it nasty for us if she ain't let out soon, I reckon."

"Not for _us_, Tuke," was Nugent's sardonic rejoinder. "But she will
probably make it very nasty for _you_, or rather her father will. I
intend you to bear the brunt of Mr. Mallory's displeasure, my friend, on
the usual terms. In other words, you will be well paid for any
unpleasantness you may incur on my behalf. I am going to release Miss
Enid Mallory now, and as the tale I intend to regale her with does not
entail your presence, you had better go back to your lodging. And by
the first train in the morning you must clear right out for your kennel
in London. I will communicate with you by letter as to future
requirements."

So at the summit of the cliff they separated, Tuke taking the path to
the lower end of the town, where for some days he had been domiciled in
a fisherman's cottage, and Nugent striking out across the moor for the
back way into his own grounds.

Before he closed the door in the hedge, he turned and looked seaward.
Some three miles out a brilliant streak of light was visible. It was
moving rapidly westward, like a