“‘Look here,’ I asked; ’it may seem an irrelevant question, but has the 2-th made any changes in its uniform lately?—­any important changes, I mean.’

“’No:  the War Office has been obliging enough to leave us alone in that respect:  out of sight out of mind, I suppose.  In point of fact we’ve kept the same rig—­officers and men—­for something like a quarter of a century.’  He paused.  ’I see what you’re driving at.  The man, you think, may be an old deserter!’

“’Not so fast, please.  Now here’s another question.  You remember the night after the wreck of the Nerbuddha:  the night you took a turn in Lansulyan Church, watching the bodies?  You came to me in the morning with a story which I chose to laugh at—­’

“‘About the face at the window, you mean?’ Dick gave a mock shudder.  ’I suppose my nerves were shaken.  I’ve been through some queer things since:  but upon my soul I’d as soon face the worst of them again as take another spell with a line of corpses in that church of yours.’

“‘But—­the face?’

“’Well, at the time I’d have sworn I saw it:  peering in through the last window westward in the south aisle—­the one above the font.  I ran out, you remember, and found nobody:  then I fetched a lantern and flashed it about the churchyard.’

“’There were gravestones in plenty a man could hide behind.  Should you remember the face?’

“Dick considered for a while.  ’No:  it didn’t strike me as a face so much as a pair of eyes; I remember the eyes only.  They were looking straight into mine.”

“’Well, now.  I’ve always guessed there was something queer about that Nerbuddha business:  though till now I’ve never told a soul my chief reason for believing so.  After you left me that night, and while I was dressing, it occurred to me from the last of the three signals—­the only one I saw—­that the wreck must be somewhere near the Carracks, and that Farmer Tregaskis had a seine-boat drawn up by the old pallace [1] at Gunner’s Meadow, just opposite the Carracks.’”

“’It struck me that if it were possible to knock up Tregaskis and his boys and the farmhand who slept on the premises, and get this boat launched through the surf, we should reach the wreck almost as soon as the life-boat.  So I took a lantern and ran across the fields to the farm.  Lights were burning there in two or three windows, and Mrs. Tregaskis, who answered my knock, told me that her husband and the boys had already started off—­she believed for Gunner’s Meadow, to launch their boat.  There had been talk of doing so, anyhow, before they set out.  Accordingly, off I pelted hot-foot for the meadow, but on reaching the slope above it could see no lanterns either about the pallace or on the beach.  It turned out afterwards that the Tregaskis family had indeed visited the beach, ten minutes ahead of me, but judging it beyond their powers to launch the boat short-handed through the surf, were by this time on their way towards the Porth.  I thought this likely enough at the time, but resolved to run down and make sure.