another minute, and I've come all this way to warn you.'

'Did you, Miss Marjorie? Did you indeed? You came to warn me. No,
indeed; I cannot let you stay here.'

'How are we to get out, Neil? I think the tide is at the foot of the
cliffs now?'

As she spoke a stream of water broke in and ran along the floor of
their little shelter.

'It iss too late to get out that way now, Miss Marjorie,' said Neil;
'and in any case it would be too slippery that the cliffs would be. I
will pe knowing an opening leading to the moor, where it's not
difficult to climb up. Come this way.'

He helped her along the passages. Soon they were in total darkness.
The flood was gaining upon them, and the noise rendered it impossible
to exchange a word. Sometimes the water hissed and gurgled at their
heels, and sometimes they plunged ankle-deep into pools.

They slipped and scrambled along, Marjorie clinging to her guide; and
presently a glimmer of light came from above.

'Here we are, Miss Marjorie,' said Neil. 'If you could be managing to
climb up here we would come out on the moor.'

The ascent was broken and dangerous, and was in some places only very
imperfectly lighted. Neil, with his sailor's training, swung himself
from point to point, sometimes drawing Marjorie up to a ledge, and
sometimes instructing her where to set her feet. At last the welcome
daylight burst upon them, and grasping the tufts of heather, they drew
themselves on to firm ground.

'At last,' said Marjorie, throwing herself down on the heather, and
blinking in the sun. 'Now you can go to the lighthouse, Neil.'

'Hullo,' said a voice; and Marjorie looked up to see the laird and Mr.
Graham, who had come all this way to watch the storm at the Corrachin
Caves, and were very much astonished at this sudden encounter.

'Run, Neil,' gasped Marjorie; but Neil drew himself together.

'It iss no use,' he said; 'they will be watching wherever I will go,
and I hev not a chance.'

Then to Mr. Stewart he said, 'I am not for trying to escape. I know I
shall be taken. I'd rather give myself up to you than to any one else.
If you wass not to be letting my mother know it iss grateful to you I
will be, sir.'

The laird looked greatly distressed.

'Neil, my lad,' he said, 'I have no warrant for arresting you. It's
none of my business. You may go away if you like; I shall not try to
prevent you.'

Neil shook his head.

'It iss no use, sir,' he said; 'I woul