He came back to the well. "Yes," he said, "turn her round, and then I'll cut out the engine and throttle her down. She'll make a certain amount of row, but we can't help that. I daren't stop her; or she might never start again." We carried out our manoeuvre successfully, and then dropped over the anchor to keep us in position. I seated myself on the roof of the cabin, and pulling out a pipe, commenced to fill it. "I wonder how long the interval is," I said. "I suppose spying is a sort of job you can't fix an exact time-limit to." Tommy looked at his watch again. "It's just on a quarter to ten now. He told me not to wait after half-past." I stuffed down the baccy with my thumb, and felt in my pocket for a match. "It seems to me--" I began. The interesting remark I was about to make was never uttered. From the high ground away to the left came the sudden crack of a revolver shot that rang out with startling viciousness on the night air. It was followed almost instantly by a second. Tommy and I leaped up together, inspired simultaneously by the same idea. Being half way there, however, I easily reached the painter first. "All right," I cried, "I'll pick him up. You haul in and have her ready to start." I don't know exactly what the record is for getting off in a dinghy in the dark, but I think I hold it with something to spare. I was away from the ship and sculling furiously for the shore in about the same time that it has taken to write this particular sentence. I pulled straight for the direction in which I had heard the shots. It was the steepest part of the cliff, but under the circumstances it seemed the most likely spot at which my services would be required. People are apt to take a short cut when revolver bullets are chasing about the neighbourhood. I stopped rowing a few yards from the shore, and swinging the boat round, stared up through the gloom. There was just light enough to make out the top of the cliff, which appeared to be covered by a thick growth of gorse several feet in height. I backed away a stroke or two, and as I did so, there came a sudden snapping, rustling sound from up above, and the next instant the figure of a man broke through the bushes. He peered down eagerly at the water. "That you, Morrison?" he called out in a low, distinct voice, which I recognized at once. "Yes," I answered briefly. It struck me as being no time for elaborate explanations. Mr. Latimer was evidently of the same opinion. Without any further remark, he stepped forward to the edge of the cliff, and jumping well out into the air, came down with a beautiful splash about a dozen yards from the boat. He rose to the surface at once, and I was alongside of him a moment later. "It's all right," I said, as he clutched hold of the stern. "Morrison's in the _Betty_; I'm lending him a hand." I caught his arm to help him in, and as I did so he gave a little sharp exclamation of pain. "Hullo!" I said, shifting my grip. "What's the matter?"