Immediately beneath the spot, the cliffs fell starkly into the
sea--a drop of three hundred feet. Beneath was deep water and only
an occasional cleft or cranny broke the face of the shining
precipice, where green things made shift to live and the gulls built
their rough nests with scurvy grass. No sign marked the cliff edge,
but beneath, on the green sea, were boats from which fishermen still
dredged for the dead. This work, long continued, had yielded no
results whatever.

Later in the day Brendon returned to his hotel and introduced
himself to Miss Reed and her family to find that her brother, Robert
Redmayne's friend, had returned to London. She and her parents were
sitting together in the lounge when he joined them. All three
appeared to be much shocked and painfully mystified. None could
throw any light. Mr. and Mrs. Reed were quiet, elderly people who
kept a draper shop in London; their daughter revealed more
character. She was a head taller than her father and cast in a
generous mould. She exhibited a good deal of manner and less actual
sorrow than might have been expected; but Brendon discovered that
she had only known Robert Redmayne for half a year and their actual
engagement was not of much more than a month's duration. Miss Reed
was dark, animated, and commonplace of mind. Her ambition had been
to go upon the stage and she had acted on tour in the country; but
she declared that theatrical life wearied her and she had promised
her future husband to abandon the art.

"Did you ever hear Captain Redmayne speak of his niece and her
husband?" Brendon inquired, and Flora Reed answered: