De Fronsac must have walked rapidly, for it was not until they had nearly reached the village that they caught another glimpse of him. Then, however, the gap in the cliff brought him well into view, and the boys had no difficulty in following. He kept straight on across the deserted harbor and on to the footpath at the other side running up the cliff,—a short cut for pedestrians leading to the highroad a little short of Gudgeon’s farm. Not far up, however, the path forked, a narrow track leading down again to the beach, which it reached about two hundred yards farther east. Jack had to wait until De Fronsac had disappeared before he followed him across the open space around the harbor, for if he had chanced to turn he must have caught sight of any one behind. Thus, when the boys reached the fork of the path, they were uncertain whether to continue up the cliff, or to turn down to the right. "Listen!" said Jack. Holding their breath they waited. Was that a faint sound from above? "Let us chance it," said Jack, and up they went, following the steep winding path until it brought them once more to the highroad. They glanced up and down; there was nothing to be seen, only Gudgeon’s farm about a stone’s throw to the right, and the bare white road winding down-hill past it and up-hill to the left. They were again at fault; presumably De Fronsac, to avoid the very loose shingle near the village, had chosen the cliff path, only to turn to the right and continue his road by the beach. "If that’s it," said Jack, "we can easily make sure. Remain here by the wall so that you can’t be seen. I’ll go on." He ran on tiptoe along the road past Gudgeon’s house standing black and silent, crossed the little bridge over the chine, and, vaulting the wall, hastened to the edge of the cliff. He should now at least be level with the Frenchman if he was still walking along the beach eastward, for on the road Jack had run much faster than was possible on the shingle. Here again, however, the cliff cast a black shadow. He could see nothing; nor, listening intently, could he detect any sound from below, save the slow wash of the high tide. But in a few moments his practised ear caught another sound. Surely that was the faint thud of oars working in row-locks out at sea. Yes: a quarter of a mile eastward he saw a boat cross the white path of the moonbeam across the water and creep shoreward. And beyond, straining his eyes, he thought he saw in the shimmering moonlight the shape of a larger vessel, motionless. "Whew!" he whistled softly, "that’s the Frenchman’s little game!" He was convinced that there must be some connection between the approach of the boat and De Fronsac’s suspicious movements. What was it? He thought of Arthur, remaining by himself in Gudgeon’s field. "Better fetch the youngster," he said to himself. He raced back to the spot and told Arthur what he had seen. "You had better come with me. Who knows what this will lead to?"