With a sudden impulse Geoffrey followed. His feet flew over the heavy sands, making no noise. As he turned the rocky point he saw no signs of the girl, but there on the beach with her sketch-book on her knee was Marion herself, so deeply interested in manipulating her water colors that she did not see Geoffrey till he hailed her. "Did you see her?" Geoffrey gasped. Marion smiled at his excited face. "See whom?" she asked. "Oh, yes, some girl did pass me; but I was so busily engaged that I did not look up. How do you think my sketch is progressing? I have been at it all the morning. Vera made me a small bet that I should not finish it to day, so I am going to win my bet, or perish in the attempt." Geoffrey was hardly listening. He recollected that there had been some little chaff at luncheon over some sketch, but he had paid little heed to the subject. "It was the same girl," he said. "The girl so like you. Oh, Marion, how unfortunate you did not look up!" "It was indeed," Marion replied. She appeared to be deeply interested. "I would have given anything to see her. But it is not too late. Put my materials in your boat, Geoff, and I will follow up the cliffs. I can't be very much use--I'm afraid--but at any rate I may solve this much of the mystery." Geoffrey returned to his boat. It seemed very strange to him that Marion should not have seen the girl, and also that on each occasion these two should have been so close together without meeting. Geoffrey pushed his boat out, got his sails up, and then stood out for the bay. It was very quiet, and no other boats were to be seen. One or two of the upper windows of the castle were visible from there, but no other signs of habitation. The breeze freshened as Geoffrey reached the open sea. Some distance from him a pile of wreckage covered with a mass of seaweed floated on the water. "I'll anchor here and get my lines out," said Geoffrey. He luffed and as he did so a puff of wind filled the sail. The mast gave an ominous crack, and the whole thing snapped and went by the board. Geoffrey stared with widely open eyes. The wind was as nothing, barely enough to belly the sail. Then he looked down and saw that the mast had been almost sawn away. Somebody had cut it nearly through, so that the first puff would suffice. Geoffrey felt vaguely alarmed and uneasy. He was a good four miles from shore and was an indifferent swimmer. The sea was too dangerous and rough for bathing. There might be further treachery. He sat down and pulled hard at the oars with the idea of returning to the beach again. As he bent his back to the work, he toppled over the seat with two short stumps in his hands. The oars, too, had been sawed through and Geoffrey was helpless, four miles from land in an open boat, with no means of progress and nobody in sight.