Then I set out to explore the rest of the crack.

It slanted down and then rose again to a small platform. After
that it dropped in easy steps to the moor beyond the tower. If the
Portuguese Jew had come here, that was the way by which he had
reached it, for he would not have had the time to make my ascent. I
went very cautiously, for I felt I was on the eve of a big discovery.
The platform was partly hidden from my end by a bend in the
crack, and it was more or less screened by an outlying bastion of
the tower from the other side. Its surface was covered with fine
powdery dust, as were the steps beyond it. In some excitement I
knelt down and examined it.

Beyond doubt there was spoor here. I knew the Portuguese
jew's footmarks by this time, and I made them out clearly, especially
in one corner. But there were other footsteps, quite different. The
one showed the rackets of rough country boots, the others were
from un-nailed soles. Again I longed for Peter to make certain,
though I was pretty sure of my conclusions. The man I had followed
had come here, and he had not stayed long. Someone else had been
here, probably later, for the un-nailed shoes overlaid the rackets.
The first man might have left a message for the second. Perhaps the
second was that human presence of which I had been dimly
conscious in the night-time.

I carefully removed all traces of my own footmarks, and went
back to my cave. My head was humming with my discovery. I
remembered Gresson's word to his friend: 'Tomorrow night.' As I
read it, the Portuguese Jew had taken a message from Gresson to
someone, and that someone had come from somewhere and picked