“That,” he said softly, “was strange.  Does it not suggest to you that he may have been robbed?”

“I had not thought of it,” I answered.  “The verdict, I believe, was simply Found drowned.”

“Found drowned,” the Prince repeated.  “Ah!  Found drowned. 
By-the-bye,” he added suddenly, “who did find him?”

“I did,” I said coolly.

“You?” The Prince peered at me closely through the dim light.  “That,” he said reflectively, “is interesting.”

“You find it so interesting,” I remarked, “that perhaps you could help to solve the question of the man’s identity.”

He seemed startled.

“I?” he exclaimed.  “But, no.  Why should you think that?”

I turned to join Lady Angela.  He did not immediately follow.

“Why did you bring him?” I asked her softly.  “You had some reason.”

“He was making inquiries about you,” she answered, “secretly and openly.  I thought you ought to know, and I could think of no other way of putting you on your guard.”

“The Prince of Malors!” I murmured.  “He surely would not stoop to play the spy.”

She was silent, and moved a step or two farther away from the spot where he still stood as though absorbed.  His angular figure was clearly defined through the twilight against the empty background of space.  He was on the very edge of the cliff, almost looking over.

“I know very little about him myself,” she said hurriedly, “but I have heard the others talk, Lord Chelsford especially.  He is a man, they say, with a twofold reputation.  He has played a great part in the world of pleasure, almost a theatrical part; but, you know, the French people like that.”

“It is true,” I murmured.  “They love their heroes decked in tinsel.”  She nodded.

“They say that it is part of a pose, and that he has serious political ambitions.  He contemplates always some great scheme which shall make him the idol, if only for a day, of the French mob.  A day would be sufficient, for he would strike while—­Prince, be careful,” she called out.  “Ah!”

We heard a shrill cry, and we saw the Prince sway on the verge of the cliff.  He threw up his arms and clutched wildly at the air, but he was too late to save himself.  We saw the ground crumble beneath his feet, and with a second cry of despair he disappeared.

Grooton, Lady Angela, and I reached the edge of the cliff at about the same moment.  We peered over in breathless anxiety.  Lady Angela clutched my arm, and for a moment I did not in the least care what had happened to the Prince.

“Don’t be frightened,” I whispered.  “The descent is not by any means sheer.  He can’t possibly have got to the bottom.  I will clamber down and look for him,”

She shuddered.

“Oh, you mustn’t,” she exclaimed.  “It is not safe.  How terrible it looks down there!”

I raised my voice and shouted.  Almost immediately there came an answer.