Bertie hurried away towards the cliffs. An opal evening was falling on the world. The sea glimmered and sparkled out to the sinking sun. As he hurried, Bertie could see the woods of Cliff End, and the gables of the old house. So far he had seen no one on the beach. The tide was coming in, creaming back softly over the sands, nosing upwards on the rocks. He was coming close to where he had sat with Estelle and known for the first time that he loved her. Far below was a stretch of firm sand, with a curious rock running out, deep water always at its landward side--a treacherous, slippery rock, not high above the water, but its sides sheer and steep. Then he saw Denise Blakeney and his wife. Esmé was gesticulating, speaking loudly. Denise standing with bent head and outstretched, pleading hands. He saw little Cecil playing with his spade, making a castle. The next downward track was some way on. He watched for a minute. "Bertie!" He swung round, astonished. Estelle, with lines in her pale face, was on the cliffs. "You!" he jerked out. "Here--to-day. Why?" She flushed. "I ... came to say good-bye to the cliff here," she said gently. "Where I knew for the first time that you were my world, Bertie. I came down this morning. I was walking back to Trelawney now to catch a train." For a minute he forgot everything except that the girl beside him would understand and sympathize. He stood pouring out his story; there was no hurry. Estelle listened, saw suddenly that Marie had not dreamed; looked back on little incidents. "Her child!" she muttered. "Poor Esmé. Oh, Bertie, listen! we can hear what they are saying, and it's as well to know." The voices rang clearly. Esmé was flinging out passionate words, demanding justice. "You'll not take him," Denise cried. "Esmé, it would ruin me." "Did you think when you allowed me to be ruined?" stormed Esmé--"saw me cut, banned by my friends?" "You wrote a foolish letter," wailed Denise. "Cyril thought you had stolen the diamonds. I never told him so." "No, but to save yourself you left it at that. You acted a cruel lie. Now give me my boy. I have borne enough." "You cannot prove it," Denise sobbed piteously. "No, Esmé, no." "I can and will. Because I was weak, and loved ease and pleasure, all this has come. The world believes me to be a thief--my husband that I am an adulteress. At least I'll have my boy. Oh, Denise, do you know how I've longed for him? How my whole life has been one ache of regret?" "But the scandal. Oh, God! I cannot face Cyril." Denise flung herself down on the soft sand, gripping it with her hands. "I'll give you more money, anything." "Nothing but the truth will give me back my honour. Where is the boy?" "Cecil wanted some red seaweed for his castle. Cyril is on the rock getting it," said Cecil, looking up. "Mumsie not let Cecil go." "On the rock!" Esmé sprang round.