It was not quite dark, and the cliffs stood out against the sky in odder and more grotesque shapes than by daylight.  A host of seamews were fluttering about and uttering the most unearthly hootings, but the sea was as yet quite calm, save where it broke in wavering, serpentine lines over the submerged reefs which encircle the island.  The tidal current was pouring rapidly through the very narrow channel between Sark and the little isle of Breckhou, and its eddies stretching to us made it rather an arduous task to get Tardif’s boat on shore safely.  But the work was pleasant just then.  It kept our minds away from useless anxieties about the girl.  An hour passed quickly, and up the ravine, in the deep gloom of the overhanging rocks, we made our way homeward.

“You will not quit the island to-morrow,” said Tardif, standing at his door, and scanning the sky with his keen, weather-wise eyes.

“I must,” I answered; “I must indeed, old fellow.  You are no land-lubber, and you will run me over in the morning.”

“No boat will leave Sark to-morrow,” said Tardif, shaking his head.

We went in, and he threw off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, preparatory to frying some fish for supper.  I was beginning to feel ravenously hungry, for I had eaten nothing since dinner, and as far as I knew Tardif had had nothing since his early breakfast, but as a fisherman he was used to long spells of fasting.  While he was busy cooking I stole quietly into the inner room to look after my patient.

The feeble light entering by the door, which I left open, showed me the old woman comfortably asleep in her chair, but not so the girl.  I had told her when I laid her down that she must lie quite still, and she was obeying me implicitly.  Her cheek still rested upon my handkerchief, and the broken arm remained undisturbed upon the pillow which I had placed under it.  But her eyes were wide open and shining in the dimness, and I fancied I could see her lips moving incessantly, though soundlessly.  I laid my hand across her eyes, and felt the long lashes brush against the palm, but the eyelids did not remain closed.

“You must go to sleep,” I said, speaking distinctly and authoritatively; wondering at the time how much power my will would have over her.  Did I possess any of that magnetic, tranquillizing influence about which Jack Senior and I had so often laughed incredulously at Guy’s?  Her lips moved fast; for now my eyes had grown used to the dim light I could see her face plainly, but I could not catch a syllable of what she was whispering so busily to herself.

Never had I felt so helpless and disconcerted in the presence of a patient.  I could positively do nothing for her.  The case was not beyond my skill, but all medicinal resources were beyond my reach.  Sleep she must have, yet how was I to administer it to her?

I returned, troubled and irritable, to search once more my empty portmanteau.  Empty it was, except of the current number of Punch, which my father had considerately packed among the splints for my Sunday-evening reading.  I flung it and the bag across the kitchen, with an ejaculation not at all flattering to Dr. Dobree, nor in accordance with the fifth commandment.