“The hotel people know nothing of Mr. Lessingham, your ladyship, beyond the fact that he did not return last night. They received a message from Hill's Garage, however, about half an hour ago, to say that their mechanic had driven Mr. Lessingham early this morning to Norwich, where he had caught the mail train to London, The boy was to say that Mr. Lessingham would be back in a day or so.” Philippa pushed open the windows and made her way down towards the beach. She leaned over the rail of the promenade and waved her hand to the others, who clambered up the shingle to meet her. “Scarcely seen you yet, my dear, have I?” Sir Henry observed. He stooped and kissed her forehead, a salute which she suffered without response. Helen pointed to the wreck. “It doesn't seem possible, does it,” she said, “that men's lives should have been lost in that little space. Two men were drowned, they say, through the breaking of the rope. They recovered the bodies this morning.” “Everything else seems to have been washed on shore except my coat,” Sir Henry grumbled. “I was down here at daylight, looking for it.” “Your coat!” Philippa repeated scornfully. “Fancy thinking of that, when you only just escaped with your life!” “But to tell you the truth, my dear,” Sir Henry explained, “my pocketbook and papers of some value were in the pocket of that coat. I can't think how I came to forget them. I think it was the surprise of seeing that fellow Lessingham crawl on to the wreck looking like a drowned rat. Jove, what a pluck he must have!” “The fishermen can talk of nothing else,” Nora put in excitedly. “Mummy, it was simply splendid! Helen and I had gone up with two of the rescued men, but I got back just in time to see them fasten the rope round his waist and watch him plunge in.” “How is he this morning?” Helen asked. “Gone,” Philippa replied. They all looked at her in surprise. “Gone?” Sir Henry repeated. “What, back to the hotel, do you mean?” “His bed has not been slept in,” Philippa told them. “He must have slipped away early this morning, gone to Hill's Garage, hired a car, and motored to Norwich. From there he went on to London. He has sent word that he will be back in a few days.” “I hope to God he won't!” Sir Henry muttered. Philippa swung round upon him. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded. “Don't you want to thank him for saving your life?” “My dear, I certainly do,” Sir Henry replied, “but just now--well, I am a little taken aback. Gone to London, eh? Tore away without warning in the middle of the night to London! And coming back, too--that's the strange part of it!” One would think, from Sir Henry's expression, that he was finding food for much satisfaction in this recital of Lessingham's sudden disappearance. “He is a wonderful fellow, this Lessingham,” he added thoughtfully. “He must have--yes, by God, he must have--In that storm, too!”