"Like a drunken lunatic, I applauded the sentiment. For a minute we were both mad as the drugged Malay who runs amuck. Fortunately nobody did come in for some time, and gradually wiser counsels prevailed. We slipped into our garments and hid our revolvers. Then from raging madmen we passed to tears. We were so spent and exhausted that we cried like little children. "But men like ourselves are not easily daunted. The pain was still great, but this only stimulated our desire to live and gain the better of those who had so cruelly used us. Later a priest conducted us into another room, where the princess awaited us. "She smiled as she looked at our faces. That smile was nearly the end of her. Many a time since have I regretted that I didn't finish her career then and there. Had she betrayed the least sign of fear I should have done so. And by so doing your people would have been saved many a bitter sorrow." "At the expense of your life," Geoffrey said. Tchigorsky shrugged his shoulders. "What matter?" he said. "The few suffer for the many. Well, as I was saying----" The speaker paused suddenly as his eye caught something moving along the beach. It was the figure of a woman creeping along as if in search of some missing object. She proceeded very slowly until she approached the spot where the boat lay filled and sunk, and then she paused abruptly. For a minute she stood fascinated by the sight, then she flung her hands high in the air, and a bitter wailing cry escaped her. If she had been a fisherman's wife suddenly brought face to face with the dead body of her husband or lover, her wail of anguish had not been more poignant. "Who can she be?" Geoffrey asked. Tchigorsky said nothing. The woman stood with her hands raised. As she turned and ran towards the cliffs, moaning as she went, Geoffrey started. "Marion," he said. "Marion." He would have dashed forward, but Tchigorsky restrained him. "That is not your Marion," he said. "Your Marion does not dress like that." Geoffrey looked again. It was Marion and yet not Marion. It was the girl in the blue serge dress and red tam-o'-shanter who resembled her so strikingly. What did this girl know about him, and why did she stand wailing over his boat? He felt he must solve this mystery. "Sit down," Tchigorsky said slowly. "Sit down." "But," Geoffrey cried, "I insist upon knowing----" "And spoiling everything. Sit down, I say, or I shall have to detain you. I don't fancy you would care to measure your strength with mine." Geoffrey dropped into his seat. "Perhaps not," he said. "I don't believe you want me to know who that girl is." "I have heard worse guesses," Tchigorsky said dryly. CHAPTER XLI WAITING