to lie beneath a spell. She wondered if she would come across any bits of
wreckage, and suppressed a shudder. The Gothic archway looked very dark
and vault-like from where she stood. Should she, after all, go any
nearer? Should she wait till Cinders would deign to accompany her? The
tide was undoubtedly rising. In any case she would have to turn back
within the next few minutes.

Slowly she pivoted round and looked again from the smiling horizon
whereon no ship was visible to the Magic Cave that yawned in the
face of the cliff. The next instant she jumped so violently that
she missed her footing and fell from her perch in sheer amazement.
Something--someone--was moving just within the deep shadow where the
sunlight could not penetrate!

It was not a big drop, but she came to earth with a cry of pain among a
mass of fallen stones, whereon she subsided, tightly clasping one foot
between her hands. She had stumbled upon wreckage to her cost; a piece of
rusty iron at her side and the blood that ran out between her locked
fingers testified to that.

"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" she wailed, rocking herself, and then glanced
nervously over her shoulder, remembering the mysterious cause of the
disaster.

The next moment swiftly she released the injured foot and sprang up. A
man, attired in white linen, had emerged from the Magic Cave.

He stood a second looking at her, then came bounding towards her over the
rocks.