Having, reduced her enemy to impotence, Claudia returned to the Rectory, and slept the sleep of the just. But her slumber was due rather to exhaustion than to placidity of mind; and on waking in the morning, she began to realise that she had acted rather rashly. Impulsively the girl had sought out her enemy, and impulsively, had carried the war into the same enemy's camp. But had she been wise in thus driving Lady Wyke into a corner? Sir Hector's widow was clever, persistent, and dangerous, so that Claudia had no mean antagonist to deal with. Enraged by an ignominious defeat, Lady Wyke might see Purse and ruin Edwin without further delay. It was possible, if not quite probable, that she would act in this way; and Claudia went, down to breakfast, wishing fervently that the record of the previous night could be obliterated. The girl recognised that she had been in too much of a hurry to right the wrong.

All Sunday Claudia was worried and anxious, both in church and out of church, before meals, during meals, and after meals. Of course, since the Rector and his wife were to be kept in the dark, she had to feign a cheerfulness which she was a long way from feeling. Even sharp Mrs. Craver noticed nothing in the girl's manner likely to suggest questions, and privately thought that if Claudia was quieter than usual it was because Edwin had gone back to London so abruptly. Lady Wyke did not come either to the morning or evening service, and the Rector's wife speculated as to why she was absent.

In the afternoon, Claudia found it impossible to remain at home, so she went for a brisk walk along the cliffs. Emerging from the Rectory grounds she passed through a small wood, which sheltered the house from the sea breezes, and took the meandering path along the verge of the cliffs. On arriving at the coastguard station she paused for a quarter of an hour to remove her hat and let the air breathe its cool kiss on her locks. She had a headache, caused by her perplexity and the peace around did it good, soothing the lingering pain and finally taking it away altogether. Claudia set out on her return journey feeling much better, and began to think that she was making a mountain out of a molehill. But before she quite made up her mind to this course she suddenly came across Neddy Mellin.

The boy was descending the zig-zag path which led to the beach immediately below the Rectory, and, not being far distant, Claudia recognised him at once. She then remembered, how Neddy had stolen the fatal letter which implicated Edwin in the crime, and forthwith resolved to ask questions. It required some diplomacy to ask the right ones, so as to get right answers, for Master Mellin was a clever brat, extraordinary sharp and suspicious. However, Claudia thought that she could manage him, and, to attract his attention, raised her voice in the Australian "Cooee!" Neddy turned his head and halted when he saw her coming down the path. He liked Miss Lemby, as she was a "very scrumptious gal"--his own words--and, moreover, had given him a packet of cigarettes, which was wrong of Claudia, considering the boy's tender years. Neddy looked uncommonly smart in an Eton suit, which suited his slim, well-knit figure perfectly. Decidedly, he was a handsome lad, so angelic in appearance, that she wondered how he managed to keep his shady character out of his face. Neddy was an unscrupulous little wretch, he stopped at nothing to get his own way and his own enjoyment, thereby greatly resembling his elders.

"You do look smart, Neddy," said Claudia, when she reached the boy. "Why are you not in London?"

"I came down to see mother," said Neddy, whose diction, as the listener noted, was much improved, even in the short time he had been under tuition. "She always wants to see me every week, so that she may know that I am safe. Coming down on to the beach, miss?"

"Yes. I am out for a walk. I have not been down this way before."

"It's just as well, miss," said Neddy, sagely, and led the way down to the sands. "This place here is dangerous."

"Dangerous!" Claudia looked, at the billowy sand-mounds.

"Yes. See," and Neddy pointed to a distant patch of glistening sand, which looked oozy and damp and treacherous. "Quicksands, miss."

Claudia stared and shivered. "What a nasty-looking place."

"Aye, and it is nasty, too, miss. Folks have told me again and again how other folk have, been swallowed up yonder."

"There should be a sign that it is dangerous."

"There was a sign," chuckled Neddy, "but it was swallowed up also, if you or me got in there," he added, fixing his innocent blue eyes on the gleaming expanse, "we'd go down to hell."

"Don't talk like that, you horrid little boy."

"I'm not little, though I may be horrid, miss. I'm grown up, I am, and next week I sing at the Tit-Bits, Music-Hall. 'Sally in our Alley's' what I'm going to sing. The chap as teaches me says I'll make a hit. It's good pay, too, miss, I do say. But there"--Neddy's face fell--"I've got to hand over the dibs to my blessed mother."

"Why do you speak of your mother in that way?"

"Well, I can't call her my cussed mother, can I miss?"

Claudia laughed, and then became grave to rebuke him. "You are a wicked boy to talk of your mother in that way. It is just as well that she should get your salary. You are too young to know the value of money."

"Oh, am I? Well, that's a good one. May I smoke?"

Claudia laughed again at this politeness, and sat down on a convenient boulder. "You shouldn't smoke at your age."

"Who gave me cigarettes?" asked Neddy, shyly.

"I was very wrong to encourage you. I don't think," added Claudia, with a view to arriving at the point she aimed at, "that your aunt would give you tobacco."

Neddy sat down and lighted up with the impudent air of a robin. "I take it," he remarked, coolly, "she smokes herself, and I sneak what I want. Aunt Laura ain't bad. A dashing sort of woman, ain't she?"

"She'd box your ears if she heard you say that, Neddy."

"She wouldn't. Aunt Laura daren't lay a finger on me."

"Why not?" Claudia became aware that there was a threat hidden here.

"Because I know----" Neddy hesitated, and stole a cunning glance at his companion. "Well, I know what I know."

"Lady Wyke has been very kind to you, Neddy."

"Kind? Oh, yes, very kind," Neddy sneered, and then smiled blandly.

"You're a wicked little boy, you know, to steal letters."

Master Mellin dropped his cigarette and looked startled. "She told you?"

Claudia nodded. "Yes. She wants----"

"You needn't talk." Neddy waved his hand grandly. "I know. Aunt Laura wants to marry the nut you're sweet on. I twigged that ages ago. She didn't know how to manage to nab him, so I helped her."

"By giving her that lette............