“What is this?” he cried, stooping to examine something at his feet. “This sand is all trampled—and there is blood here!”
For a moment I confess that I was taken aback, but only for a moment; then the wit that nature had given me asserted itself. “Ah,” I said, coolly, “a little affair of honour, sir, before your arrival.”
“But,” he replied, looking up at me with a puzzled air, “what of your opponent, my lord?”
I shrugged my shoulders carelessly. “The sea has its secrets, sir,” I replied, meeting his gaze frankly. “It is a safe hiding place.”
He glanced searchingly over the moonlit surface of the water, as if he half expected to see the body there; I could tell that he was not wholly satisfied. But like a sensible man, he forebore to question me further. After all, what concern was it of his? Had he not already made his name famous by my capture? Small time, indeed, had he for speculation, for already the first waves were rippling gently over the sand, blotting out in a moment all traces of the recent conflict. And had we needed a further diversion, it was provided for us by the appearance of his commanding officer upon the path. Preceded and followed by a trooper, he slowly and reluctantly descended. The men had fastened their belts together and held them like a rope to keep him from the edge; but notwithstanding this precaution, it could be seen how he clung to the cliff upon his right, and upon a nearer approach could be heard to be alternately bemoaning the errand that put him in so perilous a position and conjuring his men to proceed with greater caution. I thought that a smile of contempt flitted for a moment across the face of the lieutenant, but catching my eye, it vanished instantly and he stepped to the foot of the path to await their coming. The descent safely accomplished, he presently returned, accompanied by a short, stout officer, whose appearance seemed more suited to the wine shops of The Hague than to the rocky cliffs of Devon.
“This is Major Verbrughen!” the lieutenant said curtly.
I held out my sword to the man at his side.
“Then to you, sir,” I said quietly, “I surrender myself on parole. I trust that you have not been put to inconvenience in satisfying my honour?”
“To great inconvenience,” he answered bluntly; “for which I, for one, see no necessity. But you—you English are so proud! What a country! What a road! I am a soldier—not a fly; and I do not like such work.”
What further he would have added I do not know, for the lieutenant drew him aside and began to speak to him in a low voice.