The strange pair set out on their excursion in the afternoon. It was a long pull from the village to the cliffs, but it was accomplished at length. The boat was run aground at the least dangerous spot and Ralph and Geoffrey set out along the sands. The former's step was as free and assured as that of his younger companion. "Ah," Geoffrey cried, "you are right. There they are." "I knew it," Ralph replied. "See if they are injured." Geoffrey steeled himself to his gruesome task. The three men lay side by side as if they had been placed so by human hands. As far as Geoffrey could judge, there were no signs of violence on the bodies of either of the natives. They lay by each other, their faces transfixed with rage and horror. Beyond doubt, these men had been drowned, sucked down by the strong current and then cast up again by the sea as if in cruel sport. "No hurts on either," Geoffrey muttered. "It is possible. Look at the other one." Geoffrey did so. He saw a face fixed with a grim smile, the smile of the man who can meet death and knows how to punish those who injure them. The face was seared and criss-crossed just like Tchigorsky's and Ralph Ravenspur's; indeed, with its strange disfigurement the dead Russian would have passed for Tchigorsky. The face was black and swollen from an ugly bruise in the forehead. Had not he known the truth, and had any one told Geoffrey that Tchigorsky lay there, he would have believed it. A spade had been placed in the bottom of the boat, and with it two deep graves were dug in the sand. Into them the bodies of the Orientals were cast; the sand was made smooth again, and a layer of heavy rocks laid on the top. The body of the Russian was conveyed to the boat and thence to the house. There was nobody to see the mournful entry. All the family were on the terrace. A startled servant or two came forward and gave the necessary assistance to convey the body to the dimly lighted corridor. "Go to the village and fetch the constable," said Geoffrey. "We have found a dead body on the beach." The servant went off; the gallery was deserted. In a few minutes the family would be in the house again, and the story would have to be told. Tchigorsky looked cautiously from his hiding place. "Is the coast clear?" he asked. "Perfectly clear," said Geoffrey. Tchigorsky came forward. For a long time he examined the body. The regret on his face was tempered by a gleam of grim satisfaction. "It is very like you," said Geoffrey. "It is me," Tchigorsky whispered. "You are to recognize it as me. The idea is that I fell over the cliffs in the darkness and was drowned. I will explain later. Somebody comes." Tchigorsky darted off as Marion appeared. She looked white and agitated. "Another horror," she said. "Sims just told me. Who is it?" "I regret to say it is Dr. Tchigorsky," said Ralph. "He must have walked over the cliff in the darkness. See here." Marion bent over the body with a shudder.