Jasper inclined his head for a moment in silence. Bear! Little did the old man know how much he, Jasper, had to bear.
They sat talking for some little time, Jasper listening, as he talked, to the two voices outside—the clear, low, musical tones of Stella, the thin weak voice of the boy. Presently the voices ceased, and after a time he went out. Frank was sitting in the sunset light, his head on his hands.
"Where is Stella?" asked Jasper, almost sharply.
Frank looked up at him.
"She has escaped," he said, sardonically.
Jasper started.
"What do you mean?"
"She has gone on the cliffs for a stroll," said Frank, with a little smile at the alarm he had created and intended to create.
Jasper turned upon him with a suppressed snarl. He was battling with suppressed excitement to-night.