Near the main village the road ascended a rather steep bluff, and at the top made a sudden turn toward the town.  As Chamberlain approached this point, he yielded more and more to the beauty of the scene.  The Bay of Charlesport, the rugged, curving outline of the coast beyond, the green islands, the glistening sea, the blue crystalline sky over all—­it was a sight to remember.

Not far from the land, at the near end of the harbor, was the Sea Gull, pulling at her mooring.  A stone’s throw beyond Chamberlain’s feet, a small rocky tongue of land was prolonged by a stone breakwater, which sheltered the curved beach of the village from the rougher waves.  Close up under the bluff on which he was standing, the waters of the bay churned and foamed against a steep rock-wall that shot downward to unknown depths.  It was obviously a dangerous place, though the road was unguarded by fence or railing.  Only a delicate fringe of goldenrod and low juniper bushes veiled the treacherous cliff edge.  It was almost impossible for a traveler, unused to the region, to pass across the dizzy stretch of highway without a shuddering glance at the murderous waves below.

On the crest of this cliff, each of the two men paused, one following the other at a little distance.  The first man, however, paused merely for a few minutes’ rest after the steep climb.  Chamberlain, hardened to physical exertions, took the hill easily, but stood for a moment lost in speculative wonder at the scene.  He kept a sharp eye on his leader, however; and presently the two men took up their Indian file again toward the village.

Some distance farther on, the road forked, one spur leading up over the steep rugged hill, another dropping abruptly to the main village street and the wharves.  A third branch ran low athwart the hill and led, finally, to the summer hotel where Chamberlain and the Reyniers had been staying.  At this division of the road Chamberlain saw the other man ahead of him sitting on a stone.  He approached him leisurely and assumed an air of business sagacity.

“Good day, sir,” said Chamberlain, planting himself solidly before the man on the stone.  He was rather large, blond, pale and unkempt in appearance; but nevertheless he carried an air of insolent mockery, it seemed to Chamberlain.  He glanced disgustedly at the Englishman, but did not reply.

“Rather warm day,” remarked Chamberlain pleasantly.  No answer.  The man sat with his head propped on his hands, unmistakably in a bad temper.

“Want to buy some land?” inquired Chamberlain.  “I’m selling off lots on this hill for summer cottages.  Water front, dock privileges, and a guaranty that no one shall build where it will shut off your view.  Terms reasonable.  Like to buy?”

“Non!” snarled the other.

Chamberlain paused in his imaginative flight, and took two luscious yellow pears from his bulging pockets.