The top of the red sandstone cliff
opposite was still wreathed with mists, but the sunlight lay upon the
tennis lawn, the flower gardens below, and the rocks almost covered by
the full, swelling tide. Tall, and looking slimmer than ever in his
plain dinner garb, there were some indications of an hour of strange and
unexpected suffering in the tired face of the man who gazed out in
somewhat dazed fashion at the little panorama which he had been looking
forward so eagerly to seeing again. Throughout the long journey down
from town, he had felt an unusual and almost boyish enthusiasm for his
coming holiday. He had thought of his tennis racquet and fishing rods,
wondered about his golf clubs and his guns. Even the unexpected
encounter with Miller had done little more than leave an unpleasant
taste in his mouth. And then, on his way down from "up over," as the
natives called that little strip of moorland overhead, he had vanished
into the mist and had come out into another world.
"Andrew! So you are out here? Why did you not come to my room? Surely
your train was very punctual?"
Tallente remained for a moment tense and motionless.
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