Our hands met in a long, firm grip, even as they had done in the early morning of that selfsame day, when I had sworn strict secrecy concerning that which now, alas! through my unfaithfulness had thus been turned into a power of threatening danger. Going over to the fatal, mischief-working window, I slowly closed the tell-tale casement; then once more turned towards my father; and spite of all his efforts at concealment, I read within his eyes the awful words "Too late!" And so I left him. *CHAPTER VII* *The Plotters* Such had been the throbbing interest and excitement of that eventful day, that I had taken scarcely anything to eat or drink--I had not thought of it--and now my only craving was for water. Of that I took a long, cold draught, then went up to my lonely bed-chamber. But not to rest; there could be no rest for me now! Pacing the room I thought bitterly of the state of things, and how different it might all have been but for my own surpassing carelessness; thought, too, of the old man who sat lonely and disconsolate below; of Tubal Ammon and his mischief-working master. Thus to and fro I went, I know not for how long, while shame and self-reproach hung close and heavy at my heels: but at every turn the hopelessness and desperation of my mind increased, until at length I could endure my thoughts no longer. The confines of that little chamber seemed to grow smaller and more suffocating every moment, until they were as those of some pestiferous dungeon in which I was a maddened prisoner. I must do something--take action, no matter how preposterous and wild--or lose my senses. Going over to the open window I stood there looking out across the bay. A cool sea breeze played most refreshingly upon my heated face; I drew it in with thankfulness. The tumult in the town had sunk to silence, the night was dark and still as death. Far off I saw the bobbing lanterns of the three black ships whose coming had so altered everything. It all seemed like a dream or ugly nightmare, and I was thinking so when suddenly I saw a tiny twinkling light upon the cliffs, it might be half a mile away. On this--I know not why, unless it was presentiment--my eyes became fixed in a fascinated stare. Who at such an hour (’twas now close on midnight) had business in so desolate and wild a spot? Barely had I asked the question, when another light, a trifle larger, blinked forth in answer, some distance from the first one. Even as I watched, they quickly drew together, got close enough to make them seem one light, and then were lost to me. Here, then, was what I craved for--chance of action! Some mystery was afoot there on the cliffs. I would endeavour to make out the nature of it. Recking nothing of the risks I ran, careless of everything save blessed movement, I stuck two loaded pistols in my belt, crept downstairs with a noiseless stealth, and left the house.