The old man and the girl stared at each other, comprehending the tragedy in all its naked horror. "How long ago was it that you heard Miss Maynard passing through the grounds of The Hut on her way to the beach?" Mr. Mallory asked, breaking the strained silence. "It must have been more than half an hour. I got out through the roof of the grotto almost immediately afterwards; then I went home, and, finding you out, ran down to the club as hard as I could," Enid replied. Then, glancing up at her father's stern, set face, she said abruptly---- "What time does the telephone exchange close?" "Hours ago--at eight o'clock, and it's now nearly midnight," replied Mr. Mallory, looking at her as if she had gone daft. "But if we made it all right with the exchange people we could get the wire, I suppose?" "If you could persuade or bribe them--certainly," said Mr. Mallory, with a touch of impatience. "But what good would it do? You cannot telephone to any one who can prevent Miss Maynard from going on board a steamer which, by your own showing, must have been reached by her long ago." Enid linked her arm in her father's and began dragging him to the shop where the exchange was worked. "Come along and see," she exclaimed excitedly. "The worst of you clever people is that you never give any one else credit for a gleam of intelligence." A couple of minutes later they had rung the bell at the private door of the shop, and were parleying with a sleepy individual at an upper window, who was at last induced to come down and open to them. CHAPTER XXVII PURSUIT Lieutenant Reginald Beauchamp had been dining at the officers' mess of the Royal Naval Barracks at Devonport, and was making his way back to the dockyard, where he expected to find his boat's crew ready to put him aboard what Enid irreverently called his floating sardine-box. The _Snipe_ was anchored in the Hamoaze, not far from the docks for the convenience of victualling. Reggie, being a youth of convivial but temperate habits had dined wisely, to the extent of feeling at peace with all the world. The fine digestive powers of eight-and-twenty had served to assimilate the excellent fare provided by his hosts; he had enjoyed the society of many old comrades, whose pockets he had afterwards lightened at snooker pool; and the few glasses of wine he had drunk had done him no greater harm than to render him, out here under the stars, mildly sentimental about his little girl at Ottermouth. "A rattling good sort, Enid, and no flies on her for a young 'un," he summed up his mental recapitulation of his sweetheart's virtues. "But if she tries to boss me afloat as well as ashore the little witch will have to look out for squalls, that's all." As he passed through the dock gates his musings were suddenly but respectfully broken into by the police-constable who admitted him. Reggie was the kind of officer who is known by sight, and was remembered even by those who had but little to do with him.