"Is she not here?"

"She went out. I thought I heard a shot. Where is she?"

"I will go and see," and I ran out again, still not unhopeful. It might be
that Krok had seen Torode's ship and his fears for Carette had magnified
matters.

I searched quickly all round the house. I cried "Carette! Carette!" But
only a wheeling gull squawked mockingly in reply. Then I ran along the
trodden way to their landing-place. There was a boat lying there with its
nose on the shore,--no sign of outrage anywhere. Could Krok be mistaken?
Could Carette just have rowed over to Havre Gosselin for something she was
in need of?

I went down to the boat, doubtful of my next move.

In the boat that nosed the shore lay Helier Le Marchant, my comrade in
prison, in escape, in many perils, with a bullet-hole in his
forehead--dead. And I knew that Krok was right and my worst fears were
justified.

Torode had landed, had caught Carette abroad, in carrying her off they had
met Le Marchant hastening to her assistance, and had slain him,--the foul
cowards that they were.

There was nothing I could do for him. I lifted him gently out onto the
shingle, and turned to and pulled out of the harbour. Others, I knew, would
soon be across to Brecqhou, and would see to him and the rest. My work lay
on Herm, and as like as not might end there, for death as sudden and