Van Heldre nodded; and he was on his way to a roughly-formed flight of granite steps, which led up to the ruins of the old castle which had once defended the mouth of the harbour, when another mackintosh-clothed figure came up. "Ah, Mr Leslie," said Van Heldre, looking at the new-comer searchingly. "Good morning," was the reply, "or I should say bad morning. There'll be some mischief after this." Van Heldre nodded, for conversation was painful, and passed on. "Going up yonder?" shouted Leslie. There was another nod, and under the circumstances, not pausing to ask permission, Leslie followed the old merchant, climbing the rough stone steps, and holding on tightly by the rail. "Best look out, master," shouted one of the group. "Soon as you get atop roosh acrost and kneel down behind the old parry-putt." It was a difficult climb and full of risk, for as they went higher they were more exposed, till as they reached the rough top which formed a platform, the wind seemed to rush at them as interlopers which it strove to sweep off and out to sea. Van Heldre stood, glass in hand, holding on by a block of granite, his mackintosh tightly pressed to his figure in front, and filling out behind till it had a balloon-like aspect that seemed grotesque. "I daresay I look as bad," Leslie muttered, as, taking the rough fisherman's advice, he bent down and crept under the shelter of the ancient parapet, a dwarf breast-work, with traces of the old crude bastions just visible, and here, to some extent, he was screened from the violence of the wind, and signed to Van Heldre to join him. Leslie placed his hands to his mouth, and shouted through them. "Hadn't you better come here, sir?" For the position seemed terribly insecure. They were on the summit of the rocky headland, with the sides going on three sides sheer down to the shore, on two of which sides the sea kept hurling huge waves of water, which seemed to make the rock quiver to its foundations. One side of the platform was protected by the old breast-work; on the opposite the stones had crumbled away or fallen, and here there was a swift slope of about thirty feet to the cliff edge. It was at the top of this slope that Van Heldre stood gazing out to sea. Leslie, as he watched him, felt a curious premonition of danger, and gathered himself together involuntarily, ready for a spring. The danger he anticipated was not long in making its demand upon him, for all at once there was a tremendous gust, as if an atmospheric wave had risen up to spring at the man standing on high as if daring the fury of the tempest; and in spite of Van Heldre's sturdy frame he completely lost his balance. He staggered for a moment, and, but for his presence of mind in throwing himself down, he would have been swept headlong down the swift slope to destruction.