und herself in a most fascinating cove. The line of cliff
here made a horseshoe, not quite half a mile in length. The little bay,
within this curve, was a place of almost fairy-like beauty; the sand a
soft glistening white, decked with delicate crimson seaweed. The cliffs,
towering up above, gave welcome shadow to the shore; yet the sun behind
them still gleamed and sparkled on the distant sea.

Myra walked to the centre of the horseshoe; then, picking up a piece of
driftwood, scooped out a comfortable hollow in the sand, about a dozen
yards from the foot of the cliff; stuck her open parasol up behind it, to
shield herself from the observation, from above, of any chance passer-by;
and, settling comfortably into the soft hollow, lay back, watching,
through half-closed lids, the fleeting shadows, the blue sky, the gently
moving sea. Little white clouds blushed rosy red. An opal tint gleamed on
the water. The moving ripple seemed too far away to break the restful
silence.

Lady Ingleby's eyelids drooped lower and lower.

"Yes, my dear Jane," she murmured, dreamily watching a snow-white sail,
as it rounded the point, curtseyed, and vanished from view; "undoubtedly
a--a well-expressed sentence; but far from--from--being fact. The safely
abstract could hardly require--a--a--a cameo----"

The long walk, the sea breeze, the distant lapping of the water--all
these combined had done their soothing work.

Lady Ingleby slept peacefully in Horseshoe Cove; and the rising tide
crept in.

CHAPTER IX

JIM AIRTH TO THE RESCUE

An hour later, a man swung along the path at the summit of the cliffs,
whistling like a blackbird.

The sun was setting; and, as he walked, he revelled in the gold and
crimson of the sky; in the opal tints upon the heaving sea.

The wind had risen as the sun set, and breakers were beginning to pound
along the shore.

Suddenly something caught his eye, far down below.

"By Jove!" he said. "A scarlet poppy on the sands!"

He walked on, until his rapid stride brought him to the centre of the
cliff above Horseshoe Cove.

Then--"Good Lord!" said Jim Airth, and stood still.

He had caught sight of Lady Ingleby's white skirt reposing on the sand,
beyond the scarlet parasol.

"Good Lord!" said Jim Airth.

Then he scanned the horizon. Not a boat to be seen.

His quick eye travelled along the cliff, the way he had come. Not a
living thing in sight.

On to the fishing village. Faint threads of