But we had all learnt
confidence in him by this time--his increasing bodily weakness never
seemed to affect his cleverness and resource--and no doubt occurred to
me that he would contrive to checkmate this new move of the
riding-officer's. Nevertheless, and partly I dare say out of curiosity,
to have a good look at the soldiers, I slipped on my clothes and hurried
downstairs and across the garden.
My hand was on the gate when I heard footsteps, and July Constantine
came running down the hill, her red cloak flapping and her hair powdered
with mist.
"Hullo!" said I, "nothing wrong, I hope?" She turned a white,
distraught face to me in the dawn.
"Yes, yes! All is wrong! I saw the soldiers coming--I heard them a
mile away, and sent up the rocket from the church-tower. But the lugger
stood in--they _must_ have seen!--she stood in, and is right under Sheba
Point now--and _he_--"
I whistled. "This is serious. Let us run out towards the point; we--
you, I mean--may be in time to warn them yet."
So we set off running together. The morning breeze had a cold edge on
it, but already the sun had begun to wrestle with the bank of sea-fog.
While we hurried along the cliffs the shoreward fringe of it was ripped
and rolled back like a tent-cloth, and through the rent I saw a broad
patch of the cove below; the sands (for the tide was at low ebb) shining
like silver; the dragoons with their greatcoats thrown back from their
scarlet breasts and their accoutrements flashing against the level rays.
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