But the loss of self-control did not last long. By a powerful exercise of the will Montrose succeeded in gaining the mastery of his being and on hands and knees crawled towards the edge of the cliff. He did not expect to see Enistor, as in his impetuous rush the man must have hurled himself directly into the thundering waves which broke far below in white and furious foam. In the moonlight, which radiated strongly for the time being against the face of the sea-front, Montrose saw a dark body half-way down. The Squire had fallen straightly for some distance, then had cannoned off one rock to strike against another, and finally came to rest on a projecting spur, where the senseless body remained, hanging helplessly above the boiling of the witches' cauldron below. Clearly and distinctly Montrose saw the perilous position of his enemy: clearly and distinctly he knew that his enemy could be saved. It remained with him to allow Enistor to die terribly (since the man's first movement when he revived would precipitate him into the hell beneath) or to descend and effect a rescue. How could he do so without a rope and lacking assistance? The young man did not know, but what he did know, and the thought burnt into his brain, was that Enistor could be saved, or doomed. And the choice lay with him.
The temptation was almost overpowering. Only Enistor could depose to that fatal visit to the cottage, and if such a proof was wanting Montrose knew positively that he could not even be accused, much less arrested. He was aware of his innocence, yet Enistor, who hated him, could prove him to be guilty, and hand him over to an unmerited death. This the man would assuredly do, and Montrose winced to think how his name would be covered with ignominy and how greatly Alice would suffer. Why should he save one who designed his disgrace; who desired his death? He asked himself this question, and then asked it of God. No reply came either from himself or from the Unseen. He felt as though the guidance of the Higher Powers had been withdrawn, and that he was left to choose unbiased, uninstructed, completely free. Then he recollected how Eberstein had said that both good and evil would be placed before him, and how swiftly he had declared he would select the good. His memory recurred to the subsequent warning: "Be not over-confident lest you fall." This was the time of choice, the crucial moment, which decided all. If he saved Enistor he saved the only witness who could bring about his condemnation: if he did not rescue the man he would be free to marry Alice, to enjoy the money, and to lead a peaceful life. But could a peaceful life be built up upon a crime? for a crime it was to allow his enemy to perish. No! Come what might, arrest, trial, condemnation, and shameful death, it was impossible to hesitate longer. Enistor must be rescued and he must be the man to do the deed. In a frenzy of eagerness, and in deadly fear lest the evil should overpower the good, Montrose sprang to his feet and hurried impetuously towards the lights of the coastguard station. There was not a moment to be lost, so he literally fell against the door and clamoured for admittance.
"What's the row? What's the row?" asked a gruff voice, as the door opened violently and a coastguard appeared. "You, sir!" The man had seen him before and recognised him in a moment. "Have you come to give yourself up?"
"Do what you like about that," gasped Montrose, clinging to the door, a wild figure ragged and streaming with water, "only help me to save Enistor."
"The Squire! What's that about the Squire?" and another coastguard laid down his pipe to step hurriedly forward.
"He has fallen over the cliff."
"You threw him over!" cried both men simultaneously.
"No! No! I swear I did not. But what does it matter? You can arrest me afterwards if you choose. Just now I want to save Enistor. His body is hanging halfway down. Get me a rope, a lantern; come and assist. I must save him." And Montrose, feeling a new and powerful life move him to action, rushed into the darkness.
The startled coastguards followed, both to see what had happened and to arrest the fugitive for whom the whole country-side was searching. But discipline prevailed in spite of their natural bewilderment, and they came to the verge of the cliff when Montrose shouted, with lanterns and a stout rope. The young man was lying on his stomach pointing downward to where the body was plainly seen in the moonlight. The coastguards recoiled in dismay.
"Is that the Squire?" cried one. "Then he's dead for certain."