Marquis gathered up the bits of torn paper and put them into his
pocket with the switched-off flash.

"I wish I knew that," he said.

"Knew what?"

"Which path they have taken," he replied; "there seem to be two
branching from this point, but they pass over a bed of
pine-needles and that retains no impression . . . . Where do
these paths lead?"

I did not know that any paths came into the road at this point.
But the island is veined over with old paths. The lead of paths
here, however, was fairly evident.

"They must come out somewhere on the sea," I said.

"Right," he cried. "Take either, and let's be off. . . Madame's
cigarette was not quite cold when I picked it up."

I was right about the direction of the paths but, as it happened,
the one Marquis took was nearly double the distance of the other
to the sea; and I have wondered always, if it was chance that
selected the one taken by the assailants of the cut-under as it
was chance that selected the one taken by us.

Marquis was instantly gone, and I hurried along the path, running
nearly due east. There was light enough entering from the
brilliant moon through the tree-tops to make out the abandoned