"Say that Tchigorsky is right," Ralph croaked; "Tchigorsky is always right. When we get Voski's body, what shall we do with it?"
"Lay it out in the corridor, where I can get a look at it," said Tchigorsky. "For the present I do not exist—at least, so far as this house is concerned. All you have to do is to follow my directions."
The strange pair set out on their excursion in the afternoon. It was a long pull from the village to the cliffs, but it was accomplished at length. The boat was run aground at the least dangerous spot and Ralph and Geoffrey set out along the sands. The former's step was as free and assured as that of his younger companion.
"Ah," Geoffrey cried, "you are right. There they are."
"I knew it," Ralph replied. "See if they are injured."
Geoffrey steeled himself to his gruesome task. The three men lay side by side as if they had been placed so by human hands.
As far as Geoffrey could judge, there were no signs of violence on the bodies of either of the natives. They lay by each other, their faces transfixed with rage and horror.
Beyond doubt, these men had been drowned, sucked down by the strong current and then cast up again by the sea as if in cruel sport.
"No hurts on either," Geoffrey muttered.
"It is possible. Look at the other one."