e quay and the shore, in the sunshine. But nobody had
any recollection of the man described, and Copplestone came to the
conclusion that Oliver had not chosen that side of the bay. There was,
however, one objection to that theory--so far as he could judge, that
side was certainly the more attractive. And he himself went on to the end
of it--on until he had left quay and village far behind, and had come to
a spit of sand which ran out into the sea exactly opposite the group of
rocks of which Mrs. Wooler had spoken. There they lay, rising out of the
surf like great monsters, a half-mile from where he stood. The tide was
out at that time, and between him and them stretched a shining expanse of
glittering wet sand. And, coming straight towards him across it,
Copplestone saw the slim and graceful figure of a girl.

CHAPTER III

THE MAN WHO KNEW SOMETHING

It was not from any idle curiosity that Copplestone made up his mind to
await the girl's nearer approach. There was no other human being in view,
and he was anxious to get some information about the rocks whose grim
outlines were rapidly becoming faint and indistinct in the gathering
darkness. And so as the girl came towards him, picking her way across the
pools which lay amidst the brown ribs of sand, he went forward, throwing
away all formality and reserve in his eagerness.

"Forgive me for speaking so unceremoniously," he said as they met. "I'm
looking for a friend who has disappeared--mysteriously. Can you tell me
if, any time yesterday, afternoon or evening, you saw anywhere about here
a tall, distinguished-looking man--the actor type. In fact, he is an
actor--perhaps you've heard of him? Mr. Bassett Oliver."

He was looking narrowly at the girl as he spoke, and she, too, looked
narrowly at him out of a pair of grey eyes of more than ordinary
intelligence and perception. And at the famous actor's name she started a
little and a faint colour stole over her cheeks.

"Mr. Bassett Oliver!" she exclaimed in a clear, cultured voice. "My
mother and I saw Mr. Oliver at the Northborough Theatre on Friday
evening. Do you mean that he--"

"I mean--to put it bluntly--that Bassett Oliver is lost," answered
Copplestone. "He came to this place yesterday, Sunday, morning, to look
round; he lunched at the 'Admiral's Arms,' he went out, after a chat with
the landlady, and he's never been seen since. He should have turned up at
the 'Angel' at Norcaster last night, and at a