"When I lit my pipe," added Mr. Greenwood, who, still ruffled by his reception, had decided not to impart the secret to the uncouth crowd that had waylaid him; "and what I said about the 'Pompey' is absolutely correct. I was directed along the cliffs, missed my way, and got cut off by the tide. My object was to visit my son, who is an officer on board the cruiser in question. If you have any reason to doubt my statement, inquiries on board will remove all suspicion."
"You came up over the cliffs, sir?" asked the man respectfully, for Mr. Greenwood's declaration that he was the father of a naval officer could not lightly be ignored.
"I did," replied Mr. Greenwood with studied pride. He did not think it necessary to explain how.
"Well, you're a game 'un, pardon my saying so. P'raps, sir, you won't mind if we sees you back to the town. Dooty is dooty, an' we must satisfy ourselves that you are what you says you are. Got any friends at Auldhaig?"
Mr Greenwood was adverse to causing his daughter anxiety at that time of night. At the hotel he was known only as a stranger putting up for a few days.
"I'm afraid I haven't," he replied. "But, if it is not too late, I suppose you could accompany me on board the cruiser?"
The men conferred amongst themselves; then the spokesman again addressed the object of his suspicion.
"All right, sir; that'll be the best way, I'm thinking. Best foot forward, sir. We may just catch the six-bell boat from the staith."
The speaker and another member of the patrol fell in on either side of their suspect, while the rest of the party disappeared in the opposite direction.
"We are members of the National Guard," explained the senior of the two men. "'Tain't exactly a soft job, but it's something. Not often do we come across strangers on the cliffs after dark. When we do, we generally run 'em in. My word, I'd like to know how you got up here from the beach, sir!"