that dwelt upon his companion, he ventured diffidently: "Rose—Miss Trine—I'm sorry," he said, which was not at all what he had meant to say. "I've done my best. I suppose it's wrong to give up, but they've made it too much for me this time."
"I know," she said gently.
The sun was close upon the rim of the world. He closed his eyes to shut out the vision of its slow, implacable descent.
The water was now almost level with his lips.
"It's a good-bye now," he faltered.
"Not yet!" her voice rang beside him, vibrant. "Look—up there—along the cliff!"
Two men were running along the cliff, and the man in the lead was Alan.
Then, even as Barcus gazed, the skyline of the cliff was empty; one or the other had tripped and fallen over the brink, and falling had grasped his enemy and carried him down as well.
By no chance, Barcus told himself, could either escape uninjured.
Yet, to his amazement, he saw one break from the other's embrace and rise. He who lay still was Judith's man.
With a violent effort Barcus lifted his mouth above water and shrieked:
"Alan! Alan! Help! Here—at the end of the point—in the water—help!"
