It was warmer down in the cove than upon the moorland, but the chill of the night air was penetrating, and he huddled his neck down in the high upturned collar of his coat and drew its skirts closer about his knees. It was a dreary vigil, but his determination never wavered. A few minutes later he produced a cigar, prepared to obtain the trifling comfort which tobacco might afford him, but, in the act of striking a match he abruptly abandoned the attempt. He flung it away and raised his night glasses. Some sound had caught his straining ears. It came from well beyond the towering gateway. It seemed to him like the vague and indistinct throb of powerful engines. After a moment's search the glasses revealed some dark bulk on the bosom of the sea. In a moment he was on his feet searching, searching. Minutes passed. To him it seemed the bulk remained stationary, but its very indefiniteness left him doubting. At last he lowered his glasses and gave himself up to listening. Then he prepared to light his cigar again. He could hear no sound of engines now. He---- A light had flashed out! Instantly a responsive thrill passed down through his sensitive nerves. Now the rapidly passing moments each brought their developments. He could hear the voices of men plainly in the dead silence of the night. They must be near, dangerously near to the treacherous opening. He could see other lights, moving lights, like lanterns being borne along a deck by hand. Then he heard the clanking of cable chains. Finally a larger light, something in the nature of a small searchlight, detached itself from the others, and came directly towards the opening. He turned away and lit his cigar. Then he scrambled down to the beach. Ruxton had remained in obscurity watching the light as it passed through the opening. It came on swiftly against the racing tide. There was no hesitation or indecision. The light steered straight for the spit of rock forming a sort of natural quay, upon which he was standing under cover of a projecting boulder. There was no longer any doubt in his mind. He remembered that other time when he had embarked at the same spot. The launch slowed down and crept towards the rocky tongue. The landing was brilliantly lit up by the searching headlight. Slower, slower, it finally glided into the landing-place and was held fast by two heavy figures now clearly outlined. A third figure rose up amidships--a tall, familiar figure, clad in a long enveloping cloak. He spoke once. Then he stepped actively on to the landing. Ruxton emerged from the shadow. "Welcome, Prince. It is I, Ruxton Farlow." He had stepped forward with hand outheld. At the first sound of his voice the men in the boat had become still. The Prince had swung round, and his right hand had been plunged deeply into the pocket of his great cloak. But a moment later it was withdrawn, and a deep-throated laugh expressed his relief.