of mankind, then one with the gods, and at the last I will shower my gifts...."
He broke off, looking up at a red lacquer clock that stood on a little round gilt table. "Time—time—time nearly up!" He swung round upon the three of them.
Dunbar burst out:
"Don't flatter yourself that you'll get away to-morrow. When we're missed"
"You won't be missed," Crispin answered with a sigh, as though he deeply regretted the fact. "The hotel will receive a note in the morning saying that Mr. Harkness has gone for a coast walk, will return in a week, and will the hotel kindly keep his things until his return? Of course the hotel most kindly will. For Mr. Dunbar—well, I believe there is only an aunt in Gloucester, is there not? It will be, I imagine, a month at least before she makes any inquiry. Possibly a year. Possibly never. Who knows? Aunts are often extraordinarily careless about their nephew's safety. And in a week. Where can one not be in a week in these modern days? Very far indeed. Then there is the sea. Anything dropped from the garden over the cliff so completely vanishes, and their faces are so often—well, spoilt beyond recognition...."
"If you do this," Hesther cried, "I will"
"I regret to say," interrupted Crispin, "that after eight this morning you will not see your father-in-
