Breathless they waited, then they felt the rope jerk and they pulled up. A great sob of relief rather than a cheer rose as he appeared, bearing on his arm the slight figure of poor Frank.
Gently but swiftly they unwound the ropes and laid him down at Leycester's feet, and the old man knelt beside him.
Leycester did not speak, but stood panting and pale. The old man looked up.
"Give me a hand, boys," he said, slowly and sternly. "He is alive!"
"Alive!" said Leycester, hoarsely.
"Alive," repeated the old man. "Yes, sir, you have saved him, but——"
Leycester followed them down the cliff, followed them to the inn. Then, as the thin, wasted figure disappeared within the house, he sank on to the bench at the door, and covered his face with his hands.
Was it an awful dream?—would he awake presently and find himself at home, and this dreadful nightmare vanished?
Suddenly he felt a hand upon his arm, and looking up, saw a staid, elderly man, with "doctor" written plainly on his face.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he said. "You know this poor lad?"