of the moment
turned off to go and explore the village on the chance of happening upon
something which would give him a clue.

Five minutes devoted to his task was sufficient to satisfy him of the
hopelessness of the task, and he returned to the inn agitated, weary,
and trying to make some plan as to his proceedings as soon as it was
light.

"The post!" he said to himself. He would be able to learn there; and
half disposed to hire some vehicle and go across ten miles to the town,
he entered the doorway, to start once more, this time with a thrill of
certainty.

For, as he advanced, he saw at the end of the passage a man in
conversation with the landlady. He was making inquiries about a boat
for a sail next day. The next minute he turned to leave, and came face
to face with Guest.

"Great Heavens!" cried the latter hoarsely; "you or your ghost. O Mal,
old man, if it is you how could you be so mad?"

"Mad? Mad?" stammered Stratton. "What do you mean?"

"Why, as to follow me?"

"I--I did not know you were here."

"Oh, hang that, man. I told you in my letter."

"What letter?"

"The one I wrote and pushed into your letter-box after coming twice to
tell you."

"Letter?"

"Why, of course. You had it or you couldn't have come here."

Stratton's hand went to his breast, and the next minute he drew out a
soiled letter doubled up into three from the pressure of his pocketbook.

"You wrote this letter to me to tell me you were coming here?" said
Stratton in slow, strange accents.

"Of course I did, and I tell you that you have done a mean, cruel thing
in following me. It can do no good; Sir Mark will be furious, and it is
cruel to Myra."

"Myra--Myra here!" gasped Stratton as he reeled against the wall.

"Don't make a scene, man," said Guest in a low whisper. "Of course; I
told you she was coming, and how the old man insisted upon my coming
too. Why, you haven't opened the letter!"

"No," said Stratton in a hoarse whisper.

"Then how came you here?"

"I--Heaven only knows!" said Stratton. "It is beyond me."

Guest looked at him curiously, as if he doubted his word.

"We only came to-day. Had to stop at place after place; Myra is so weak
and ill."

Stratton groaned.

"Yes," said Guest; "that's better. Now look here. You and I will start
off at daybreak for home. It's hard on me, but it must be done."

"Yes. I saw you two--on the sands to-night. I was not sure. But tell
me, where