One by one the sailors made their way to the very edge of the wave-splashed beach. There were a few more minutes of breathless anxiety. Then, after the boat had disappeared completely from sight, hidden by a huge grey wall of sea, she seemed suddenly to climb to the top of it, to hover there, to become mixed up with the spray and the surf and a great green mass of waters, and then finally, with a harsh crash of timbers and a shout from the fishermen, to be flung high and dry upon the stones. Philippa, clutching the iron railing, saw for a moment nothing but chaos. Her knees became weak. She was unable to move. There was a queer dizziness in her ears. The sound of voices sounded like part of an unreal nightmare. Then she was aware of a single figure climbing the steps towards her. There was blood trickling down his face from the wound in the forehead, and he was limping slightly. “Mr. Lessingham!” she called out, as he reached the topmost step. He took an eager step towards her. “Philippa!” he exclaimed. “Why, what are you doing here?” “I was frightened,” she faltered. “Are you hurt?” “Not in the least,” he assured her. “We had a rough sail home, that's all, and that fellow Oates drank himself half unconscious. Come along, let me help you up the steps and out of this.” She clung to his arm, and they struggled up the private path to the house. Mills let them in with many expressions of concern, and Helen came hurrying to them from the background. “I went out to see the storm,” Philippa explained weakly, “and I saw Mr. Lessingham's boat brought in.” “And Mr. Lessingham will come this way at once,” Helen insisted. “I haven't had a real case since I got my certificate, and I'm going to bind his head up.” Philippa began to feel her strength returning. The horror which lay behind those few minutes of nightmare rose up again in her mind. Mills had hurried on into the bathroom, and the other two were preparing to follow. She stopped them. “Mr. Lessingham,” she said, “listen. Captain Griffiths has been here. He knows or guesses everything.” “Everything?” Philippa nodded. “Helen must bind your head up, of course,” she continued. “After that, think! What can we do? Captain Griffiths knows that there was no Hamar Lessingham at college with Dick, that he never visited Wood Norton, that there is some mystery about your arrival here, and he told me to my face that he believes you to be Bertram Maderstrom.” “What a meddlesome fellow!” Lessingham grumbled, holding his handkerchief to his forehead. “Oh, please be serious!” Helen begged, looking up from the bandage which she was preparing. “This is horrible!” “Don't I know it!” Philippa groaned. “Mr. Lessingham, you must please try and escape from here. You can have the car, if you like. There must be some place where you can go and hide until you can get away from the country.” “But I'm dining here to-night,” Lessingham protested. “I'm not going to hide anywhere.”