He looked like Ishmael at that moment, crossing that wild place, earnestly scanning every nook of those seamed and riven walls, sometimes glancing stealthily behind him.  His preoccupation in this search—­if it was a search—­was so great that he never once glanced ahead, and he did not see Charles until the young man leaped down the last few paces of his slippery descent and stood plainly forth before him.  Thalassa’s brown face did not move a muscle as he looked at him.

“Thalassa,” said Charles sternly, “I have been looking for you.”

Thalassa went on, still scanning the secret places of the towering cliffs as he walked forward with Charles beside him.  When the rugged passage was crossed, and the narrow wild bay left behind, he spoke.

“For what?”

“To have the truth out of you, you infernal scoundrel!” cried the young man fiercely, his self-control suddenly vanishing at that indifferent tone.  “You know all about the murder of your master; you’re going to tell me, or I’ll throw you off these cliffs into the sea.”

He gripped the other’s arm as he spoke, but Thalassa tore off his fingers, and leapt backward against a rock, a knife in his hand, snarling like a wild beast.

“Keep off!” he cried.  “Keep off, or by Christ, I’ll—­” He hooked the air with his knife.

Charles eyed him across the space, affected almost to nausea by his evil glance.  What a fool he had been to lose his temper!  Not in that way was the truth to be reached.  The man before him was not to be terrorized or intimidated.  Sisily’s way would have been the best.  He wondered whether it was too late to attempt it.

“I was hasty, Thalassa,” he said.  “Come, do not let us quarrel after I have risked everything to get down here to see you.  I have a message for you—­from Sisily.”

The face of the man crouching by the rock changed instantly.  He made a step forward, as if to speak, then cast a gleaming eye of unbelief at his companion.

“It’s a lie!” he said.  “You haven’t seen her.”

“I’m speaking the truth,” Charles earnestly replied.  “Do you think I’d have come back to Cornwall otherwise, knowing the police are searching for me?”

“Ay, you know that, do you?” muttered the other.  “They’ve been watching Flint House for you.  You were a fool to come back here.”

“I’d risk more than that to learn the truth, Thalassa.  It’s for Sisily’s sake.  I’ve seen her.  She’s in London, and I’ve come from her.  She gave me this message to bring to you.  She said:  ’Tell Thalassa that I ask him to tell the truth—­if he knows it.’  The police are looking for her as well as me.”

“I’ve heered so.”  With these words, uttered quickly, Thalassa fell into the silence of a man on his guard and pondering.  Charles approached nearer.

“Thalassa,” he pleaded, “if you are keeping anything back you must tell me for Sisily’s sake.”

“How do I know you’ve seen her?” retorted Thalassa, darting a dark crafty look at him.