"Hallo, Eustace! Where are you?"
Gartney arose to his feet with an ejaculation, the red blood rushing to his face.
"Guy!"
It was Guy, his cousin, the man whose wife he loved, the man whose home he intended to destroy, and, even wrapped as he was in his triple armour of pride, egotism, and self-complacency, he felt the sting of remorse. It was too late, however, to think of such things, he having fully made up his mind to act; so he crushed down the feeling which might have made him a better man, and went forward to meet his cousin, who was walking smartly along the beach.
Eighteen months had not made much change in Errington, save that he was a little stouter, but he looked as handsome as ever, only there was a discontented look on his face, as if he were thoroughly dissatisfied with his life, as indeed he was. He had evidently ridden over, as he was in a riding dress, and he advanced towards Eustace with one hand in his pocket, the other holding his hunting crop with which he carelessly switched his boots.
"Well, dear old fellow, I am glad to see you again," he said, coming to his cousin and holding out his hand.
"You are very kind, Guy," faltered Eustace, quietly shaking hands, with the feeling of remorse again dominant in his breast. "I was going over to see you this afternoon."
"Were you?" said Errington, listlessly. "Oh, yes!--of course, but I heard at the village you had come to Castle Grim, so, as I was mounted, I thought I'd come on here. I've left my horse with that old Caliban of yours and came down to look you up."
"I'm very glad to see you," returned Eustace, turning away his head. "Shall we go back to the house?"
"No, not yet," responded Errington, throwing himself down on the dry sand. "Let us talk here. I want to speak to you privately, Eustace, and this is the best place."