"But——"
"Come!" he cried, glancing toward the little wood.
But now my lady's petticoats must catch which caused much delay; free at length she, not troubling for Mr. Dalroyd's hand, went on down the precipitous path. The sailors, seeing her coming, launched their boat, and my lady, not waiting for their aid and heedless of wet ankles, sprang in, motioning them to do the same.
"But th' gentleman, mam—you'll never run off wi'out your fancy man, lady!" laughed one of the men and pointed to where Mr. Dalroyd yet stood upon the edge of the cliff, staring back towards the wood.
"Lady do be in a 'urry an' no mistake. Tom, give my lord a hail!"
The fellow Tom hailed lustily whereupon Mr. Dalroyd shook clenched fist at the little wood and turned to descend the cliff, but in that instant was a faint report; Mr. Dalroyd staggered, wheeled round, took a reeling pace towards that dark wood and fell.
"Lord—Lord love me, Tom!" gasped the sailor.
"Shove off!" cried my lady.
"But mam—your ladyship——"
"Shove off, I say." Almost instinctively the men obeyed, shipped the oars and sat waiting.