of buttons on my waistcoat. The grocer would
copy the pattern of my trousers,--the butcher would carry a cane like
mine. It would be simply insufferable. To change the subject, may I ask
you if you know which way you are going, for it seems to me we're bound
straight for a smash on that uncomfortable-looking rock, where there is
certainly no landing-place."

Errington stopped pulling, and, standing up in the boat, began to
examine the surroundings with keen interest. They were close to the
great crag "shaped like a giant's helmet," as Valdemar Svensen had said.
It rose sheer out of the water, and its sides were almost perpendicular.
Some beautiful star-shaped sea anemones clung to it in a vari-colored
cluster on one projection, and the running ripple of the small waves
broke on its jagged corners with a musical splash, and sparkle of white
foam. Below them, in the emerald mirror of the Fjord, it was so clear
that they could see the fine white sand lying at the bottom, sprinkled
thick with shells and lithe moving creatures of all shapes, while every
now and then, there streamed past them, brilliantly tinted specimens of
the Medusae, with their long feelers or tendrils, looking like torn
skins of crimson and azure floss silk.

The place was very silent; only the sea-gulls circled round and round
the summit of the great rock, some of them occasionally swooping down on
the unwary fishes, their keen eyes perceived in the waters beneath, then
up again they soared, swaying their graceful wings and uttering at
intervals that peculiar wild cry that in solitary haunts sounds so
intensely mournful. Errington gazed about him in doubt for some minutes,
then suddenly his face brightened. He sat down again in the boat and
resumed his oar.

"Row quietly, George," he said in a subdued tone "Quietly--round to the
left."

The oars dipped noiselessly, and the boat shot forward,--then swerved
sharply round in the direction,--and there before them lay a small sandy
creek, white and shining as though sprinkled with powdered silver. From
this, a small but strongly-built wooden pier ran out into the sea. It
was carved all over with fantastic figures, and in it at equal
distances, were fastened iron rings, such as are used for the safe
mooring of boats. One boat was there already, and Errington recognized
it with delight. It was that in which he had seen the mysterious maiden
disappear. High and dry on the sand, out of reach of the tides, wa