"Was he drowned, then?"

"I think," I replied, "that he has been washed up by the tide. There
has probably been a shipwreck."

"Gracious!" she exclaimed. "It is just a sailor, then?"

"I have not looked at his face," I answered, "and I should not advise
you to. He has been tossed about and injured. His clothes, though, are
not a seaman's."

She passed through a gap in the palings.

"I must look just a little closer," she exclaimed. "Do come with me,
Mr. Ducaine. I'm horribly afraid."

"Then don't go near him," I advised. "A dead man is surely not a
pleasant spectacle for you. Come away, Miss Moyat."

But she had advanced to within a couple of yards of him. Then she
stopped short, and a little exclamation escaped from her lips.

"Why, Mr. Ducaine," she cried out, "this is the very man who stopped me
last night outside our house, and asked the way to your cottage."



CHAPTER IV