mes I sat for a long time,
smoking my pipe on the edge of the headlands, staring at the blue of
the water, the curl of the waves on the brown sands, conscious most of
the compelling silence, and only dimly aware of the calling of the
sea-birds on the cliffs. Altogether, the afternoon was drawing to its
close when, rounding a bluff that had been in view before me for some
time, I came in sight of what I felt sure to be Ravensdene Court, a
grey-walled, stone-roofed Tudor mansion that stood at the head of a
narrow valley or ravine--dene they call it in those parts, though a
dene is really a tract of sand, while these breaks in the land are
green and thickly treed--through which a narrow, rock-encumbered
stream ran murmuring to the sea. Very picturesque in its old-worldness
it looked in the mellowing light; the very place, I thought, which a
bookman and an antiquary, such as I had heard the late owner to be,
would delight to store with his collections.

A path that led inland from the edge of the cliffs took me after a few
minutes' walking to a rustic gate which was set in the boundary wall
of a small park; within the wall rose a belt of trees, mostly oak and
beech, their trunks obscured by a thick undergrowth. Passing through
this, I came out on the park itself, at a point where, on a well-kept
green, a girl, whom I immediately took to be the niece, recently
released from the schoolroom, of whom Mr. Raven had spoken in his
letter, was studying the lie of a golf ball. Behind her, carrying her
bag of sticks, stood a small boy, chiefly remarkable for his large
boots and huge tam-o'-shanter bonnet, who, as I appeared on the scene,
was intently watching his young mistress's putter, wavering
uncertainly in her slender hands before she ventured on what was
evidently a critical stroke. But before the stroke was made the girl
caught sight of me, paused, seemed to remember something, and then,
swinging her club, came lightly in my direction--a tallish,
elastic-limbed girl, not exactly pretty, but full of attraction
because of her clear eyes, healthy skin, and general atmosphere of
life and vivacity. Recently released from the schoolroom though she
might be, she showed neither embarrassment nor shyness on meeting a
stranger. Her hand went out to me with ready frankness.

"Mr. Middlebrook?" she said inquiringly. "Yes, of course--I might have
known you'd come along the cliffs. Your luggage came this morning, and
we got your message.