“Don’t let’s get caught by the tide,” suggested cautious Hands.
“All right, you funk,” jeered Michael.
They came back to the level sands and wandered on towards the black point of cliff bounding the immediate view.
“I say, there’s a cave. I bet you there’s a cave,” Michael called to his companion who was examining a dead fish.
“Wait a jiffy,” shouted Hands; but Michael hurried on to the cave. He wanted to be the first to enter under its jagged arch. Already he could see the silver sand shimmering upon the threshold of the inner darkness. He walked in, awed by the secrecy of this sea-cavern, almost expectant of a mermaid or octopus in the deepest cranny. Suddenly he stopped. His heart beat furiously: his head swam: his legs quivered under him. Then he turned and ran towards the light.
“Good lummy!” said Hands, when Michael came up to him. “Whatever’s the matter? You’re simply frightfully white.”
“Come away,” said Michael. “I saw something beastly.”
“What was it?”
“There’s a man in there and a woman. Oh, it was beastly.”
Michael dragged Hands by the arm, but not before they had left the cave far behind would he speak.