opinion. Without any further
remark, he stepped forward to the edge of the cliff, and jumping well
out into the air, came down with a beautiful splash about a dozen
yards from the boat.

He rose to the surface at once, and I was alongside of him a moment
later.

"It's all right," I said, as he clutched hold of the stern.
"Morrison's in the _Betty_; I'm lending him a hand."

I caught his arm to help him in, and as I did so he gave a little
sharp exclamation of pain.

"Hullo!" I said, shifting my grip. "What's the matter?"

With an effort he hoisted himself up into the boat.

"Nothing much, thanks," he answered in that curious composed voice of
his. "I think one of our friends made a luckier shot than he deserved
to. It's only my left arm, though."

I seized the sculls, and began to pull off quickly for the _Betty_.

"We'll look at it in a second," I said. "Are they after you?"

He laughed. "Yes, some little way after. I took the precaution of
starting in the other direction and then doubling back. It worked
excellently."

He spoke in the same rather amused drawl as he had done at the hut,
and there was no hint of hurry or excitement in his manner. I could
just see, however, that he was dressed in rough, common-looking
clothes, and that he was no longer wearing an eye-glass. If he had had
a cap, he had evidently parted with it during his dive into the sea.

A few strokes brought us to the _Betty_, where Tommy was leaning over
the side ready to receive us.

"All right?" he inquired coolly, as we scrambled on board.

"Nothing serious," replied Latimer. "Thanks to you and--and this
gentleman."

"They've winged him, Tommy," I said. "Can you take her out while I
have a squint at the damage?"

Tommy's answer was to thrust in the clutch of the engine, and with an
abrupt jerk we started off down the creek. As we did so there came a
sudden hail from the shore.

"Boat ahoy! What boat's that?"

It was a deep, rather dictatorial sort of voice, with the faintest
possible touch of a foreign accent about it.

Latimer replied at once in a cheerful, good-natured bawl, amazingly
different from his ordinary tone:

"Private launch, _Vanity_, Southend; and who the hell are you?"

Whether the vigour of the reply upset our questioner or not, I can't
say. Anyhow he returned no answer, and leaving him to think what he
pleased, we continued our way out into the main stream.

"Come into the cabin and let's have a look at