The afternoon wore on. Towards five o’clock, Jacob, who was sitting in a corner, holding his head, was conscious of a strange sound from seawards. He hurried over to the other window. In a little dinghy, tossed like a cork by the heavy swell, he could see Lady Mary, in an exceedingly becoming bathing dress, trying to balance herself with an oar against the side of the precipitous cliff.
“Are you in there?” she called out.
“Hullo!” Jacob answered. “I should think I was!”
She leaned down and picked up a sea-fishing rod. Jacob was terrified as he saw her swaying backwards and forwards.
“Be careful!” he shouted.
“I’m all right,” she assured him. “If I get a ducking, don’t be afraid. I’m out for a swim, anyway. If I can cast inside the opening there, can you reach it?”
“If it’s anything to eat, I will,” he promised.
“Here goes, then!”
At the fifth or sixth attempt, a package, wrapped in oilskins, landed inside the aperture. Jacob, lifting himself from the floor, reached it at once, undid the fastening, and sent the line clear.
“Don’t go away,” she cried. “There’s whisky coming.”