Mr. Jordan lay long insensible. He had lost much blood. Jasper knelt by him. All was now still. The bell was no longer pealing. No step could be heard. The bats flitted about the rock; the fire-embers snapped. The wind sighed and piped among the trees. The fire had communicated itself to some dry grass, and a tuft flamed up, then a little spluttering flame crept along from grass haulm and twig to a tuft of heather, which it kindled, and which flared up. Jasper, kneeling by Mr. Jordan, watched the progress of the fire without paying it much attention. In moments of anxiety trifles catch the eye. He dare not leave the old man. He waited till those who had been summoned by the bell came that way. Presently Ignatius Jordan opened his eyes. ‘Eve!’ he said, and his dim eyes searched the feebly-illuminated platform. Then he laid his head back again on the moss and was unconscious or lost in dream—Jasper could not decide which. Jasper went to the fire and threw on some wood and collected more. The stronger the flame the more likely to attract the notice of the searchers. He trod out the fire where it stole, snakelike, along the withered grass that sprouted out of the cracks in the surface of the rock. He went to the edge of the precipice, and listened in hopes of hearing something, he hardly knew what—a sound that might tell him Walter had found his brother. He heard nothing—no dip of oars, no rattle of a chain, from the depths and darkness below. He returned to Mr. Jordan, and saw that he was conscious and recognised him. The old man signed to him to draw near. ‘The end is at hand. The blood has nearly all run out. Both are smitten—both the guilty and the guiltless.’ Jasper supposed he was wandering in his mind. ‘I will tell you all,’ said the old man. ‘You are her brother, and ought to know.’ ‘You are speaking of my lost sister Eve!’ said Jasper eagerly. Not a suspicion crossed his mind that anything had happened to the girl. ‘I shall soon rejoin her, and the other as well. I would not speak before because of my child. I could not bear that she should look with horror on her father. Now it matters not. She has followed her mother. The need for silence is taken away. Wait! I must gather my strength, I cannot speak for long.’ Then from the depths of darkness below the rock, came the hoot of an owl. Jasper knew that it was Watt’s signal to Martin—that he was searching for him still. No answering hoot came. ‘You went to Plymouth. You saw the manager who had known my Eve. What did he say?’ ‘He told me very little.’ ‘Did he tell you where she was?’ ‘No. He saw her for the last time on this rock. He had been sent here by her father, who was unable to keep his appointment.’ ‘Go on.’ ‘That is all. She refused to desert you and her child. It is false that she ran away with an actor.’ ‘Who said she had? Not I—not I. Her own father, her own father—not I.’