"Could I get down to that cave?" he asked.
"You could get down," Roger remarked judicially. "It's rather steep but there's only one bad rock. Still," he added, "if you waited till the tide was even lower, yon could walk round that. When we came back from our swim, that bit of cliff was out of water. It would be some tug crawling up, but you could take it easy."
"I'd give a good deal to get down there," said Win thoughtfully. "How was it inside? Much climbing? Any place where a box could be tucked out of sight?"
Roger proceeded to describe the interior of the cave, arousing Win's interest still more.
"I don't suppose there's hide nor hair of that chest around," he admitted, "but all the same, I want to take a look. The tide is full every morning now and it will be the end of the week before we can get down. As soon as we can, I wish you'd do the pilot act."
"Oh, I'll show you," assented Roger, again yawning prodigiously. "I don't take any special stock in this hidden chest, but the cave is fine and I'll like to take a whack at the Manor cellars. Are you going to burn that lamp all night?"
"I am going to read for a while," said his brother, taking a book from under his pillows. "Shut the door into your room if it annoys you."
"It doesn't," answered Roger. "I can see to undress by it better than with my candle. Ridiculous to have only candles in bedrooms! Mother would give me Hail Columbia if I read in bed the way you do."
Win suppressed a sigh. "Mother knows I read only when I can't sleep," he said shortly. "You may not believe it, but I'd much rather sleep."
Wednesday afternoon found an expectant quartette walking up the Manor road, slowly because Win paused occasionally to regain breath, but there were so many lovely things to look at that no delay seemed irksome. To begin with were fascinating cottages with neat little box-edged gardens and straw-thatched roofs; curious evergreen trees with stiff jointed branches known locally as monkey-puzzles; there were pretty children, some of whom waved hands of recognition; there were skylarks singing in the blue above, their happy notes falling like musical rain; there were big black and white magpies and black choughs, rooks and corbies, now known to the young people by their English names. And always there were glimpses of the ever-changing, changeless sea.