A week had glided by, and fishing was in full progress below the cliff. Hezz and his people had enclosed a small shoal of mackerel in their seine, and at another time Lance would have been in the thick of the business, revelling in seeing the line of corks drawn in closer and closer till the shoal was dashing about seeking for a way of escape, before the tuck net was brought to bear, and the arrowy wave and ripple-marked fish were ladled out in baskets.  
Lance had watched the movements of the cutter anxiously while she stayed off the point; but one fine day she had glided away west with all sail set to the light breeze, and the boy breathed more freely.
 
Then the days passed and nothing seemed to happen, except that when Lance went along the high cliffs, climbing from place to place till he settled himself down in some snug rift where he could scan the sea and note what was going on in the cove below, to see if there was any sign of smuggling, he found that his cousin came cautiously along no less than three times, and the boy laughed to himself from his hiding-place.
 
"He's watching me to see if I go down and join Hezz. How can any one be such a sneak?"
 
Lance often mused after this fashion as the days slipped by; but he kept away from the people down by the cliff, in spite of a wistful look or two he caught from Hezz, who came up to the house several times to sell fish.
 
"No," Lance said firmly, "I haven't told tales; but I won't have anything to do with smugglers."
 
One fine afternoon soon after dinner Lance saw his cousin go into the study and take down a book, rest his head on his hands, and begin to read.
 
Lance had followed him to propose that they should go inland and have a ramble in the woods, but his cousin's action checked him.
 
"It's of no use," he said; "he wouldn't come."
 
So the lad went off till he reached one of his favourite look-outs, just by a rift overgrown with brambles, where, when the tide was up, the whispering and washing of water could be heard, showing that one of the many caverns and cracks along the bold coast ran in a great way.
 
"Wish I knew which of them belonged to this," he had more than once said; and upon this particular occasion as he seated himself he began listening to the strange whispering sounds.
 
"I meant to have tried to find this out," he said, "along with Hezz. Why, I did say something about it once, and he only laughed and said it was a land-spring. Well, I can't get the boat now."
 
Somehow the place had a strange fascination for him that day, and after looking about a bit he picked up a piece of mossy granite as big as his head and pitched it among the bramble growth and ferns just where the whispering washing sound could be faintly heard.
 
To his surprise there was the fluttering of wings, and a jackdaw flew out and away.
 
"Nest there," he muttered; but his thoughts were divided by hearing the stone he had pitched down strike heavily, sending up a hollow sound; and directly after it struck again more loudly, and all was still.
 
He was in the act of rising to examine the spot, but he sank down directly, ducking his head behind a great tuft of ragwort.
 
"Well, he is a sneak," he muttered.
 
He sat close, and Alfred passed about twenty yards below, going on cautiously away to the right, and passing out of sight.
 
Lance sighed, rose, and looked away to the west; but there was no sign of his cousin, so he walked back home.
 
The night came on soft and calm, and after sitting reading a bit, and going over some translation ready for the vicar next day, Lance looked up, to see that he was alone, so putting away his books he strolled out on to the big sloping lawn to where he could see the sea; but it looked quite dark and forbidding, and the stars were half hidden by a haze. Still it was very pleasant out there, and after a time he turned to look back at the house with its light or two in the windows of the ground-floor, while everything else looked black, till all at once a little window high up in the centre gable of ............