He accompanied him then to his favourite seat among the rocks, just in front of his cottage, and they sat in silence for a time, Leslie hardly caring to start a topic lest it should evoke a sneer. "Let's go down into the town," said Uncle Luke, jumping up suddenly. Leslie rose without a word, and looked wonderingly at the old man, who, with his eyes shaded by his hands, was gazing along the rugged coast towards where, looking like dolls, a couple of fishermen were standing by something lying on a pebbly patch of sand. Leslie looked at Uncle Luke, but the old man avoided his gaze, as if unwilling to lay bare his thoughts, and together they walked pretty quickly down the steep slope. "Yes," said Uncle Luke; "the doctor says he will pull him through." "Mr Van Heldre?" "Yes. Why don't you go and see him?" "I have sent to ask again and again, but I felt that any call on my part in the midst of such trouble would be out of place." "Walk faster," said the old man excitedly, "if you can. No. Let me go alone. Look at them--running. Look!" Leslie had already noted the fact, and out of respect for the old man he stopped short at once, with the result that Uncle Luke stopped too. "Why don't you come on?" he cried. "Good heavens, man, what can I do alone? There, there, Leslie, it's of no use, I can play the cynic no longer. Man is not independent of his fellows. I never felt more in need of help than I do now." Leslie took the old man's arm, and could feel that he was trembling, as they hurried on down towards the harbour, which they would have to cross by the ferry before they could reach the little crowd gathering round the first two men on the patch of sand. "Keep a good heart, sir," said Leslie, gently. "It may not be after all." "Yes, it is--it is," groaned Uncle Luke. "I've hung on so to the belief that being a clever swimmer he had managed to get away; but I might have known better, Leslie, I might have known better." "Let's wait first and be sure, sir." "There is no need. I don't think I cared for the boy, Leslie; there were times when he made me mad with him for his puppyism; but he was my brother's son, and I always hoped that after a few years he would change and become another man." "Well, sir, let's cling to that hope yet." "No, no," said the old man gloomily. "There is the end. He was no thief, Leslie. Believe that of him. It was his wretched scoundrel of a friend, and if Harry struck down poor Van Heldre, it was in his horror of being taken. He was no thief." As they reached the lowest turn of the cliff-path, the old man gripped Leslie's arm with spasmodic violence and stopped short, for the far side of the harbour lay before them, and they could see clearly all that was going on amid the rocks behind. "We should be too late," he said huskily. "Your eyes are younger than mine. That's the police sergeant yonder in that boat, isn't it?" "Yes."