There was a pause.
“Was it windy last night?” asked Dick.
“Rather!” said Georgie.
“Anything new down town?”
“Couldn’t hear anything.”
“Hum! I wonder what that beast’s done with mother’s photograph? I say, Georgie, what a howling brute he was!”
“He was; he deserves anything.”
Strange, if so, that neither of our young heroes went to the police station and informed against their man. On the contrary, they went up on to the cliffs after school, and scanned the bay from headland to headland, doubtless lost in the wonders of the deep, and wishing very much they could tell what the wild waves were saying as to the whereabouts of the Martha.