So they set off, and instinctively their steps turned in the direction of their dismantled bower. They did not, however, choose the upper road to it, which would have led them over the forbidden fence, but went the same way as on their first visit, taking the footpath among the woods. Spring had come since they were there before, and had brought out the leaves, so that the sea was seen through a screen of greenery. The primroses were nearly over, but hyacinths were opening like a blue cloud, and great purple orchises were shooting up. In clumps at the edges of the cliff bloomed the pink thrift and white sea-campion, and patches of the yellow lady's-fingers. Merle thought she heard the cuckoo, though Mavis was certain it was only a little boy who was anticipating the well-known call. They lingered and loitered for a long time in the wood, picking flowers and hunting about for birds' nests, and wishing Bevis were there to find them for them. At last they left the trees behind, and coming out on to the headland reached the grassy plateau that jutted out from the sloping cliff. The cave looked very dark and particularly "spooky" to-day. Merle peeped timorously inside, and turned away shuddering. Mavis, more deeply interested, ventured farther. She had neither matches nor candle, and could only trust to the faint twilight that reigned within. It seemed to her as if in a dark corner a heap of something was lying. She did not think it had been there on their former visit. Wild thoughts of smugglers and contraband goods flashed into her mind. Were there smugglers nowadays? Was it a bale of silk or a case of champagne that was being stored there for safety? With rather a fluttering feeling she crept nearer. It was no case of wine or bale of silk; in the darkness it looked more like a tumbled bundle of clothing. What could it be? She was frightened, and almost turned to go; but some attraction greater far than curiosity seemed to draw her on. She was quite close to it now. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dim light, and she could just distinguish the sleeping figure of a boy, covered with a mackintosh coat. "Bevis!" she whispered. "Oh, Bevis!" He roused at her voice, and sprang to his feet with a cry, turning to her such a white, haunted face that she scarcely knew him. Merle ran forward from the entrance, and seeing both the girls he came slowly towards them. "It's you, is it?" he said. "Have you brought the police with you?" "Police! Why no, Bevis, of course not!" "Why should we?" He put his hand wearily to his head. His face was very pale, and his eyes were bright and big with dark rings round them. "No, you wouldn't bring them, I know, but they'll come all the same! I'm wanted. Wanted by the police. They're after me!" "Oh, Bevis, don't talk like this! No police want you. Why don't you go home?" "Go home! Go to Chagmouth! His ghost would stop me! Tell me, where have they buried him?" "Buried whom?"