en!--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.
Seaward, the lugger loomed through the weather; but there was a crowd of
men and black boats--half a score of them--by the water's edge, and it
was clear to me at once that a forced run had been at least attempted.

I had pulled up, panting, on the verge of the cliff, when July caught me
by the arm.

"_The sand!_"

She pointed; and well I remember the gesture--the very gesture of the
hand in the fresco--the forefinger extended, the thumb shut within the
palm. "_The sand_ . . . he told me . . ."

Her eyes were wide and fixed. She spoke, not excitedly at all, but
rather as one musing, much as she had answered Laquedem on the morning
when he waved the daisy-chain before her.

I heard an order shouted, high up the beach, and the dragoons came
charging down across the sand. There was a scuffle close by the water's
edge; then, as the soldiers broke through the mob of free-traders and
wheeled their horses round, fetlock deep in the tide, I saw a figure
break from the crowd and run, but presently check himself and walk
composedly towards the cliff up which climbed the footpath leading to
Porthlooe. And above the hubbub of oaths and shouting, I heard a voice
crying distinctly, "Run, man! Tis after thee they are! _Man, go
faster!_"

Even then, had he gained the cliff-track, he might have escaped; for up
there no horseman could follow. But as a trooper came galloping in
pursuit, he turned deliberately. There was no defiance in his attitude;
of that I am sure. What followed must have been mere blundering
ferocity. I saw a jet of smoke, heard the sharp crack of a firearm, and
Joseph Laquedem flung up his arms and pitched forward at full length on
the sand.

The report woke the girl as with the stab of a knife. Her cry--it
pierces throu