To look was easier than to see, by that light; but, by applying the dark lantern which, they carried, they saw it was a book they knew—a copy of the "Idylls of the King," which Osmond had given to Elsa, and which was hardly ever out of her hands.
"Strange!" ejaculated Henry, "very strange! She said they had not been on the cliffs—did she not say so, Cranmer?"
"Undoubtedly."
"She must have left it yesterday."
"We were all at Heriton Castle yesterday."
"Well—some time. Anyhow, it is her book—here is the name blotted and blurred, in the title-page. Let us search round here a little," he added, his voice betraying a sudden, nameless uneasiness.
The search was fruitless. They called till the rocks re-echoed, but in vain. Up and down they walked, in and out among the drenched brambles, slipping hither and thither in the chalky mire. At last they gave it up.
"We must go back and tell them we cannot find him," said Henry, wearily.
Standing side by side on the summit of the heights, they paused, and gazed, as if by mutual consent, seawards.
A pale silver glow came stealing as they looked across the heaving waters. The full dark clouds parted, and through the rift appeared a reach of clear dark sky. Wider and wider grew the star-powdered space, till at last the waning, misshapen-looking moon emerged, veiled only by a passing scud of vapor.