“It would have been rather awkward if he’d taken it the other way and been in a rage.”
“Very,” said Vince, before whose eyes the two feet of rope seemed to loom out of the evening gloom.
“And it would have been all your fault.”
“Yes,” said Vince shortly. “Good-night: I want to get home.”
They parted, and as he walked back Vince could not help thinking a good deal about the previous afternoon’s experience, and he shook his head more than once before beginning to think of the cavern.
Chapter Twenty.
Fresh Pulls from the Magnet.
A week elapsed; the weather had been stormy, and a western gale had brought the sea into a furious state, making the waves deluge the huge western cliffs, and sending the churned-up foam flying over the edge and inland like dingy balls of snow.