'Oh, what fun!' said Kathie. 'Do let us go! Are there no smugglers now, Neville? What a pity!' she went on, as her brother shook his head. 'It would be so romantic to find a smugglers' cave.'
'I don't think it would be romantic at all—at least, it wouldn't be at all pleasant,' said sensible Neville. 'In the days when there were smugglers, if they had found us poking about their caves they wouldn't have been very amiable to us.'
'What would they have done to us?' asked Kathleen.
'Pitched us into the sea, or—or gagged us, and tied our hands behind us, and left us among the rocks on the chance of any one finding us,' said Neville grimly.
Kathleen shuddered. They were soon at the entrance to the little creek which Martha had described, coming upon it suddenly, as a turn in the path brought them sharply down to a lower level. It was very picturesque. Against the strip of blue sky seen through the fissure or cleft which formed the creek, stood out clearly the outline of a small fishing craft, drawn up on the shingly beach; while down below, the water, darkened by the shade of the rocks on each side, gleamed black and mysterious.
'WHERE ARE THE CAVES, NEVILLE?'
'What a queer place!' said Kathleen. 'Where are the caves, Neville? I don't see any.'