Lady Ingleby saved the situation. She turned to Jim Airth, with that impulsive sweetness which could never be withstood. In the rapidly deepening twilight, he could just see the large wistful grey eyes, in the white oval of her face.
“Do you know,” she said, “I really couldn’t possibly sit all night, on a ledge the size of a Chesterfield sofa, with a person I had to call ‘Mr.’ I could only sit there with an old and intimate friend, who would naturally call me ‘Myra,’ and whom I might call ‘Jim.’ Unless I may call you ‘Jim,’ I shall insist on climbing down and swimming home. And if you address me as ‘Mrs. O’Mara,’ I shall certainly become hysterical, and tumble off!”
“Why of course,” said Jim Airth. “I hate titles of any kind. I come of an old Quaker stock, and plain names with no prefixes always seem best to me. And are we not old and trusted friends? Was not each of those minutes on the face of the cliff, a year? While that second which elapsed between the slipping of my knife from my right hand and the catching of it, against my knee, by my left, may go at ten years! Ah, think if it had dropped altogether! No, don’t think. We were barely half way up. Now you must contrive to put on your shoes and stockings.” He produced them from his pocket. “And then we must find out how to place ourselves most comfortably and safely. We have but one enemy to fight during the next seven hours—cramp. You must tell me immediately if you feel it threatening anywhere, I have done a lot of scouting in my time, and know a dodge or two. I also know what it is to lie in one position for hours, not daring to move a muscle, the cold sweat pouring off my face, simply from the agonies of cramp. We must guard against that.”
“Jim,” said Myra, “how long shall we have to sit here?”
He made a quick movement, as if the sound of his name from her lips for the first time, meant much to him; and there was in his voice an added depth of joyousness, as he answered:
“It would be impossible to climb from here to the top of the cliff. When I came down, I had a sheer drop of ten feet. You see the cliff slightly overhangs just above us. So far as the tide is concerned we might clamber down in three hours; but there is no moon, and by then, it will be pitch dark. We must have light for our descent, if I am to land you safe and unshaken at the bottom. Dawn should be breaking soon after three. The sun rises to-morrow at 3.44; but it will be quite light before then. I think we may expect to reach the Moorhead Inn by 4 A.M. Let us hope Miss Murgatroyd will not be looking out of her window, as we stroll up the path.”
“What are they all thinking now?” questioned Lady Ingleby.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” said Jim Airth, gaily. “You’re alive, and I’m alive; and we’ve done a record climb! Nothing else matters.”
“No, but seriously, Jim?”
“Well, seriously, it is very unlikely that I shall be missed at all. I often dine elsewhere, and let myself in quite late; or stop out altogether. How about you?”