"You idle rascals, the launch must be there!"
There was a confused murmur and the voice spoke again:—
"Then the English yacht may be back at any time now...."
Von Hagel appeared in the gallery.
"Bring her along!" he ordered softly, beckoning with his hand.
The harsh voice shouted:—
"Well, we shall have to fight for it yet!"
"No, Herr Doktor!" said von Hagel at the mouth of the gallery, "No! There need be no fight!"
They had emerged into a rocky hollow, flooded with brilliant sunshine which almost blinded Marjorie coming from the dank, dark recesses of the cliff. An arm of vivid green tree hung across the opening of the passage and beyond it there was a glimpse of gorgeous-hued bushes, over which the painted butterflies hovered, of bright blue sky and, in the distance, sparkling green sea. And across the scene the keen sea-breeze romped, blowing the hair about the girl's eyes, a breath of life after the clammy atmosphere of the cave.
His back to a tree, a ragged blanket cast across his knees, the Man with the Clubfoot lay. His face was pallid and his huge body shook with ague. Before him stood two uncouth figures, each with a rifle and blanket slung, poncho-fashion, across him, the centre of an excited, gesticulating group.