The wind the surf had threatened had come and blown back the fog. Its
rude buffet braced him, the roar of the sea and wail of the trees that
rolled down the slope were soothing. The moon was bright and when he
saw the foam glitter in the bay his sense of rebellion began to melt.
Carrie was safe; he had saved her and she had shown him his duty.
Well, he was going to carry it out, and after all Evelyn's charm was
strong. He had been a fool, but only Carrie knew, and Evelyn must not
pay. By and by he went back to the house, calmed but not much
comforted.

In the meantime, Dick reached Whitelees and did not say much about his
adventure. When he had got some food he went to the smoking-room and
looked for paper and a pencil. He wanted to refresh his memory of the
footsteps about the punt and the marks left by the anchor line. It was
important that he should do so, but although he sat for an hour,
drawing rough plans of the spot, he was not satisfied. Unluckily, he
could not go back to the sands in the morning and study the ground,
because he had promised to join some friends in town for a week. All
the same, it was some relief to put off the matter and go to bed, but
he did not sleep much and felt moody when he got an early breakfast and
started for the station.

CHAPTER XVI

EVELYN'S RESOLUTION FAILS

Disturbing thoughts spoiled Dick's visit to town and one morning soon
after his return he went out on the sands when the tide was low. He
took a note-book and a compass, and before he went walked up and down a
measured distance on the lawn until he thought he knew the length of
his stride. Since he was going to make some investigations that he
tried to hope would banish his doubts, it was necessary to be accurate.
He found the spot where Jim had left his punt; there was a little
runlet of water down the bank that fixed it, and he stepped off the
distance to the level sand above. Then he smoked a pipe while he tried
to recapture the footsteps as he had seen them in the moonlight, and
when he was roughly satisfied, went across to the creek that ran into
the main channel.

He counted his steps until he reached the spot where the shadowy figure
had vanished in the fog. The creek bent just there; he remembered the
bend, which he had cut across, and the bank was steep. If Lance,
wearing light-colored shooting clothes, had gone into the hollow,
nobody could have seen him a few yards off. Dick made some no