The pale, cold moon glistened visibly on the moist atmosphere, and far below and far beyond weird streaks of shimmering silver edged the surface of the sea. The breeze itself had scarcely stirred the water; or,--the soft sound of tiny billows lapping the outstanding boulders was wafted upwards as the tide drew in. The two men had reached the edge of the cliff. With a slight laugh, indicative of nervousness, Sir Marmaduke had quickly stepped back a pace or two. "I have brought the proofs," he said, as if wishing to conciliate a dangerous enemy, "we need not stand so near the edge, need we?" But Adam Lambert shrugged his shoulders in token of contempt at the other's cowardice. "I'll not harm thee," he said, "an thou hast not lied to me...." He deposited his lantern by the side of a heap of white chalk, which had, no doubt, been collected at some time or other by idle or childish hands, and stood close to the edge of the cliff. Sir Marmaduke now took his stand beside it, one foot placed higher than the other. Close to him Adam in a frenzy of restlessness had thrown himself down on the heap; below them a drop of ninety feet to the seaweed covered beach. "Let me see the papers," quoth Adam impatiently. "Gently, gently, kind sir," said de Chavasse lightly. "Did you think that you could dictate your own terms quite so easily?" "What dost thou mean?" queried the other. "I mean that I am about to place in your hands the proof that you are heir to a title and fifteen thousand pounds a year, but at the same time I wish to assure myself that you will be pleasant over certain matters which concern me." "Have I not said that I would hold my tongue." "Of a truth you did say so my friend, and therefore, I am convinced that you will not refuse to give me a written promise to that effect." "I cannot write," said Adam moodily. "Oh! just your signature!" said de Chavasse pleasantly. "You can write your name?" "Not well." "The initials A. and L. They would satisfy me," "Why dost thou want written promises," objected the smith, looking up with sullen wrath at Sir Marmaduke. "Is not the word of an honest man sufficient for thee?" "Quite sufficient," rejoined de Chavasse blandly, "those initials are a mere matter of form. You cannot object if your intentions are honest." "I do not object. Hast brought ink or paper?" "Yes, and the form to which you only need to affix your initials." Sir Marmaduke now drew a packet of papers from the inner lining of his doublet. "These are the proofs of your parentage," he said lightly. Then he took out another single sheet of paper from his pocket, unfolded it and handed it to Lambert. "Can you read it?" he asked. He stooped and picked up the lantern, whilst handing the paper to Adam. The smith took the document from him, and Sir Marmaduke held the lantern so that he might read.