On his evening ride one day about this time Mr. Trupp and Bess came upon the Colonel halted at the flag-staff on the top of the Head, and gazing out over the wide-spread waters with solemn eyes, as though watching for a tidal wave to sweep up out of the East and overwhelm his country. Mr. Trupp knew that the old soldier was often at that spot in that attitude at that hour, a sentinel on guard at the uttermost end of the uttermost peninsula that jutted out into the Channel; and he knew why. "Well, is it coming?" the doctor growled, half serious, half chaffing. The Colonel, standing with his hat off, his fine forehead and cadaverous face thrusting up into the blue, answered with quiet conviction. "It's coming all right." "It's been coming all my time," answered the other sardonically. "If it don't come soon I shall miss it. In the seventies it was Russia. Any fool, who wasn't a criminal or a traitor or both, could see that a clash was inevitable. Two great races expanding at incredible speed in Asia, etc., etc. Then in the nineties it was France. Any man in his right mind could see it. It was mathematically demonstrable. Two great races expanding in Africa, etc., etc.... And now it's Germany..." He coughed and ended gruffly, "Well, you may be right this time." "We were right about William the Conqueror," said the Colonel urbanely. "He came." "But that was some time ago, my daughter tells me," replied Mr. Trupp. "And you've been wrong every time since." Bess giggled; and the Colonel adjusted his field-glasses with delicate precision. "If you say it's going to rain and keep on saying it long enough you'll probably prove right in the end," he remarked. "It's dogged as does it in the realm of speculation as elsewhere in my experience." The old surgeon and his daughter turned their backs on the flagstaff and the solitary watchman beside it, and jogged towards the sunset red-strewn behind the white bluff of the Seven Sisters Newhaven-way. Two figures topped the brow of Warren Hill in front and came swiftly over the short turf towards them. It was Saturday: Ruth and Ernie were on their way to their secret covert above Cow Gap as usual. "About your last week-end up here before the weather breaks, I should say," chaffed the old surgeon as he passed them. Ernie laughed a little nervously. "Yes, sir. Just what I were a-sayin to Ruth," he answered. He had thought his secret known to none. "Well, I hope the police won't catch you," remarked the other with a grin as he rode on. "Never!--not unless someone was to give us away, sir!" said Ruth demurely, as she looked across the sea under lowered brows. Bess called back reassuringly over her shoulder: "You're all right, Ruth. I'll square Mr. Trupp." The riders struck Duke's Drive and dropped down into Meads. "How happy Ernie looks now!" said Bess. "It's delightful to see him."