To-morrow some one would find Pierre, or Pierre would crawl
down into Churchill. And then there would be the dead man to
account for. He shuddered as he returned his revolver into his
holster and braced his limbs. It was an unpleasant task, but he
knew that it must be done--to save Pierre. He lifted the body
clear of the rocks, and bending under its weight carried it to the
edge of the cliff. Far below sounded the wash of the sea. He
shoved his burden over the edge, and listened. After a moment
there came a dull splash.
Then he hastened on, as Pierre had guided him.
X
Soon Philip slackened his pace, and looked anxiously ahead of him.
From where he stood the cliff sloped down to a white strip of
beach that reached out into the night as far as he could see,
hemmed close in by the black gloom of the forest. Half-way down
the slope the moonlight was cut by a dark streak, and he found
this to be the second break. He had no difficulty in descending.
Its sides were smooth, as though worn by water. At the bottom
white, dry sand slipped under his feet. He made his way between
the walls, and darkness shut him in. The trail grew rougher. Near
the shore he stumbled blindly among huge rocks and piles of
crumbling slate, wondering why Jeanne and Pierre had come this way
when they might have taken a smoother road.
Pages:
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124