But its cant was toward the edge of the cliff, and he fought away from that. How could Sue have kept her feet against such a tempest? It was a mystery. 'Liphalet Truitt groaned again. Her frail body might even now be tossing in the breakers against the shelving face of the high bank, from the brow of which he tried at every few rods to peer down into the tumbling, boiling sea. He arrived at the spot where he believed the doctor's sister had come to grief. The snow and wind were both increasing in intensity. He could see nothing at a distance of two yards. Nevertheless, he was assured of his position. Here was where he had seen that mysterious spectral figure in the storm. He stepped back at least two fathoms from the patrol path and drove the point of the bar into the frozen earth. Again and again he thrust it downward, with his weight behind each blow, until finally he could work it around and around, sinking it into the sandy soil for as much as two feet. The bar could not easily be drawn out, and he looped the end of the line over it. This once secure, he allowed the slack of the line to run free over the verge of the bluff. He would have shouted in vain. The thunder of the breakers and the howling of the wind made a pandemonium above which no human voice could rise. Had Sue Ambrose been within twenty feet of him, the man could not have made her hear. Obsessed with the idea that she had been carried over the cliff, he seized the line and lowered himself, hand under hand, down the break of it. His head once below the brink, he was immediately out of the gale's tumult. It roared above him as the sea roared below; but he was in a calm, and having cleared his eyes with the back of one hand, could look about. His feet had an unstable placement on the face of the pitched bank; but the line gave him confidence. Here, ten feet below the brow of the cliff, the flying spume from the bursting waves stung his cheek. Here and there as his vision cleared he beheld patches of snow clinging to the steep bank. Yonder was something on a narrow shelf that was not snow. A dark figure--a human figure! Its garments fluttered in the suction of the rifted air. "Sue! My God! Sue!" His cry was simultaneous with the mighty swing he gave his body, his boots thrust against the crumbling bank. She lay a third of the way down the bluff. The foam from the crests of the breakers saturated her as they tore up the steep ascent. He swung to her side, landing with both boots digging into the frozen sand for a foothold. She was kneeling, her gloved hands clasped in prayer. His coming seemed to her a direct answer to her petition. [Illustration: He swung to her side, landed with both boots digging into the frozen sand for a foothold.] "'Liphalet! The good Lord has sent you to me!" she gasped, and he read the words on her lips rather than heard them.