world. I myself was under some sort of spell. My brain was numb with
terror, the fire of life had left my veins, so that I sat there in the
warm sunshine and shivered until my teeth chattered. Inside, the woman
was singing over her work.

And then the spell developed. A nameless but loathsome fascination drew
me from my seat, drew me with uneven and reluctant footsteps out of the
gate and down the narrow straight road. There was still not a soul in
sight. I drew nearer and nearer to the spot. Once more I essayed to
move him. It was utterly in vain. Such nerve as I possessed had left
me wholly and altogether. A sense of repulsion, nauseating, invincible,
made a child of me. I stood up and looked around wildly. It was then
for the first time I saw what my right foot had trodden into the sand.

I picked it up, and a little cry, unheard save by the sea-birds which
circled about my head, broke from my lips. It was a man's signet ring,
thin and worn smooth with age. It was quaintly shaped, and in the
centre was set a small jet-black stone. The device was a bird, and
underneath the motto--"Vinco!"

My hand closed suddenly upon it, and again I looked searchingly around.
There was not a soul in sight. I slipped the ring into my waistcoat
pocket and moved back to the white railings. I leaned against them,
and, taking a pipe and tobacco from my pocket, began to smoke.

Strangely enough, I had now recovered my nerve. I was able to think and
reason calmly. The woman at the lodge had taken it for granted that
this man's body had been thrown up by the sea. Was that a possible
conclusion? There was a line all down the sands where the tide had
reached, a straggling uneven line marked with huge masses of wet