Volume Two, Chapter VII. MISS CLODE IS OVERCOME. It was a vain effort, for such an event was sure to be known to others besides the parties concerned. Sent on a special mission by her aunt that morning, to see whether Mr Miggles had any fish, and with a basket to obtain a small bottle of a peculiar water that Fisherman Dick secretly supplied to a few friends whom he could trust, simple-faced Annie picked up some news. "You don't want any more brandy, aunty," the girl had said; "there are two bottles not opened, and you said you wouldn't have any more fish for ever so long." "Oh, Annie!" cried Miss Clode, "I thought you were beginning to be of a little use to me." The girl's mouth opened wide, and her nose turned red; but directly after a cunning smile came in her face, and her eyes nearly closed. "Oh, I say, aunty," she said softly, "I know what you mean now. You mean go and make that an excuse for getting to know about pretty Miss Denville going to see about the little girl." "Worse and worse, Annie," cried Miss Clode. "Don't you understand that a still tongue makes a wise head?" "Oh, yes, aunty, I know now;" and nodding her head very knowingly, Annie went off on her mission. She returned very quickly, with a face quite scarlet with heat and excitement, full of the news she had picked up from Mrs Miggles, who had determined not to say a word of what she knew, and ended by telling all. Miss Clode was in a state of excitement, for she had heard from a customer that young Mr Linnell, of the Parade, had fallen from the cliff that morning and cut his head, and the news turned the little woman pale, and she staggered and felt sick. When Annie came back she had recovered, but only ready on hearing her niece's news to faint dead away and lie insensible, just as stout Mrs Barclay came in about a new account-book, and to purchase a couple of pounds' worth of bill-stamps. "Poor little woman!" cried Mrs Barclay sympathetically. "Here, don't make a fuss, my dear; I'll help you. Let's get her on the sofa. It's only fainting, and the smelling-salts will bring her round. That's the way," she panted and puffed as she helped to carry the slight little woman into the inner room. "Worse disasters at sea. Not so bad as Mr Linnell tumbling off the cliff this morning and cutting his head." "He didn't tumble off the cliff," said Annie, round-eyed and trembling with eagerness, as she whispered in Mrs Barclay's ear. "Oh, yes, he did, my dear." "No, he didn't," whispered Annie, as Miss Clode lay quite senseless. "Hearing about it all upset aunty." "Did it? What, his fall?" "No, no, it wasn't a fall; but I mustn't say anything." "You don't know anything," said Mrs Barclay contemptuously. "Oh yes, I do," whispered Annie. "It's very horrid. Major Rockley shot him in a duel this morning for horse-whipping him after Major Rockley had insulted Miss Denville. There!"