"Evidently somebody who is fond of his own company," thought John. He went up to Commander Grieves's look-out. The old naval officer was at the long telescope. "May I have a squint through that, sir?" John requested.
"By all means, youngster, by all means," returned the old man; "here you are." He swung the telescope, and John found that, to his chagrin, he could see nothing of the man on the strip of beach below.
"What do you want to see?" asked Commander Grieves.
"I want to look sharp down from here to the south," John said. "Some one from the fort is walking down there, and I'm wondering who it is."
"You can't see with this; I'll lend you my Zeiss," returned the Commander. He took out a pair of binoculars, and handed them to John. "We do not cover that bit of shore," said Grieves, "either with the guns or with the searchlights. It's of no importance, and isn't navigable for anything drawing more than three feet of water."
John took the binoculars, and thanked him, then went to the cliff edge. Here, moving with particular caution, he began to focus his glasses. When definition seemed to be right, he leaned carefully forward, and surveyed the beach below. The soldier was still there. After pacing with apparent aimlessness back and forward, he had seated himself on the smooth strip of sand. At the present moment the khaki figure was occupied in placing a pebble on the sand at arm's length. He placed a second small stone next to this, then made a span with his fingers, and put a third pebble in a line with the first and second. He made another span, and placed down a fourth stone and a fifth beside it. His operations were steady and systematic. He was absolutely absorbed with his work. John, from that cliff top, watched him for a full five minutes; never once did the soldier raise his head. In khaki uniform, at that distance, he might have been any soldier at the fort. Finally, however, when he had finished his operations, which had grown more and more interesting to John, he rose and looked at his handiwork upon the smooth sand. Evidently he had completed his task, whatever it was, for he turned and continued his aimless strolling. This time he was pacing towards the fort, and as he turned he lifted his eyes, and swept the cliff in a swift, embracing glance. In an instant John had recognised the sallow, upturned face of "Crumbs."
For a full ten minutes he waited, holding himself back. At the end of that time, however, he again cautiously approached and looked down. Below him spread the bright golden sands, a few chalk boulders were scattered here and there, and the waves continued to roll and break languidly as before.
The figure of "Crumbs" had now vanished from the sands. A steep, winding path ascended the cliff to the fort, and it was upon that path that John again saw Sims. It was a good twenty minutes' walk from where "Crumbs" was to the fort itself, and John, after watching him for a minute, lowered his glasses, rose and made his way back to the mess-room.
"Collins," he said to an orderly, "bring me the leave book."
When the leave book was in his hand he ran his finger quickly down the list of names.