I waved frantically as he vanished under the brow of rock, and hallooed into the wind with all my might, though I knew well that my voice couldn't reach him in that gale. But I was so excited that the wind beating the words back into my face only made me shout the more; and I set off down the cliff, slipping and leaping, with Worthing following more cautiously behind me. I was afraid my father would row in up the tunnel, where I would be unable to follow unless I swam for it. But with a cry of relief I welcomed him as I saw him appear again, climbing up the cliff towards me. I stopped for a moment and waved to him, but he hadn't seen me, and suddenly I thought I would hide and lie in wait for him to surprise him as he came by. I ducked behind a rock and peered out cautiously to watch for his coming. Looking back I saw Worthing still stepping deliberately down the path. I motioned to him to hide, but he was too concerned with his footing to notice me; he came slowly downwards, pushing into the wind, and steadying himself at every step. I peeped out again to see if my father were drawing near yet. But he had stopped, and his face was turned away from me. And suddenly he sprang round and began racing down the cliff. I jumped up to see what had alarmed him, but there was no one in sight except Worthing. Then faintly from below me, and coming as it seemed from Ebb-Tide Cave, I heard my own voice calling, "Daddy, dad-_dee_!" as though I were in some terrible peril. I stood fixed to the spot. A terror such as I had never known set my every nerve quivering. Not even the ghost at Sunset Towers in the dead of a stormy night had seemed so unearthly as the sound of my own voice calling for help there in the light of day. My blood ran cold to hear it. I clutched at the rock beside me, for I felt faint and would have fallen. But as my father still sped downwards, evidently deceived by the cry which kept rising to him, "Daddy, daddy, save me!" I threw off my stupid fear and started running after him, shouting with all my power. But the wind was full in my face, and seemed to sweep the cry from my lips, though I hallooed like one in a frenzy. Then my father dipped under the arch and vanished. I raised one last despairing cry, and quickened my pace, stumbling and clutching, heedless of knocks and tumbles. For there was an agony of anxiety upon me. A vivid picture was in my mind of my father breaking back into the flames of the burning inn when he thought he heard me calling. It was just the picture I could see; I didn't reason that that had been make-believe merely. Something told me that this at least was earnest. He was being decoyed into a trap. And of all things it was my voice which was luring him on. I jumped the last few feet, and flinging out an arm swung myself round under the jutting rock. Almost at my feet, so that I nearly fell upon him, was my father, writhing on the ground and choking blood, with a gaping gash across his throat.