There was a low groan from a figure crouching upon its knees, and supporting a woman's head, happily insensible to what was passing around. "George, lad," whispered Uncle Luke, "for the poor girl's sake, let's get her home. George! don't you hear me? George! It is I--Luke." There was no reply, and the excitement increased as a swift boat now neared the end of the point. "Where is he? Is he swimming for the boat?" cried a voice, hardly recognisable in its hoarse excitement for that of Duncan Leslie. "He jumped off, Mr Leslie, sir," shouted one of the policemen. "Row, my lads. Pull!" shouted Leslie; "right out." "No, no," roared the detective; "take me aboard. In the Queen's name, stop!" "Pull," cried Leslie to the men; and then turning to the detective, "While we stopped to take you the man would drown, and you couldn't get aboard at this time of the tide." "He's quite right," said the policeman who had last spoken. "It's risky at any time; it would be madness now." The detective stamped, as in a weird, strange way the voices kept coming from out of the darkness, where two dim stars could be seen, as the lanterns were visible from time to time; and now Leslie's voice followed the others, as he shouted: "This way, Vine, this way. Hail, man! Why don't you hail?" "Is this part of the trick to get him away?" whispered the detective to one of his men. The man made no reply, and his silence was more pregnant than any words he could have spoken. "But they'll pick him up," he whispered, now impressed by the other's manner. "Look out yonder," said the policeman, a native of the place; "is it likely they'll find him there?" "Hah!" ejaculated the detective. "And there's no such current anywhere for miles along the coast as runs off here." "Hah!" ejaculated the man again, as he stood now watching the lights, one of which kept growing more distant, while the hails somehow seemed to be more faint and wild, and at last to resemble the despairing cries of drowning men. "Listen," whispered the detective in an awe-stricken tone, as he strove to pierce the darkness out to sea. "It was Master Leslie, that," said the second policeman; "I know his hail." Just then there was a wild hysterical fit of sobbing, and George Vine rose slowly from his knees, and staggered towards the group. "Luke!" he cried, in a half-stunned, helpless way, "Luke, you know-- Where are you? Luke!" "Here, George," said Uncle Luke sadly, for he had knelt down in the place his brother had occupied the moment before. "You know the currents. Will they--will he--" He faltered and paused, waiting his brother's reply, and the three officers of the law shuddered, as, after a few minutes' silence, broken only by a groan from the kneeling man, George Vine cried in a piteous voice that sounded wild and thrilling in the solemn darkness of the night: "God help me! Oh, my son, my son!" "Quick, mind! Good heavens, sir! Another step and--"