“Because, sir, those who come, if they come, will never land at Mouthmill; if they are strangers, they dare not; and if they are bay’s-men, they are too wise, as long as the westerly swell sets in.  As for landing at the town, that would be too great a risk; but Freshwater is as lonely as the Bermudas; and they can beach a boat up under the cliff at all tides, and in all weathers, except north and nor’west.  I have done it many a time, when I was a boy.”

“And give us the fruit of your experience now in your old age, eh?  Well, you have a gray head on green shoulders, my lad; and I verily believe you are right.  Who will you take with you to watch?”

“Sir,” said Frank, “I will go with my brother; and that will be enough.”

“Enough?  He is big enough, and you brave enough, for ten; but still, the more the merrier.”

“But the fewer, the better fare.  If I might ask a first and last favor, worshipful sir,” said Frank, very earnestly, “you would grant me two things:  that you would let none go to Freshwater but me and my brother; and that whatsoever we shall bring you back shall be kept as secret as the commonweal and your loyalty shall permit.  I trust that we are not so unknown to you, or to others, that you can doubt for a moment but that whatsoever we may do will satisfy at once your honor and our own.”

“My dear young gentleman, there is no need of so many courtier’s words.  I am your father’s friend, and yours.  And God forbid that a Cary—­for I guess your drift—­should ever wish to make a head or a heart ache; that is, more than—­”

“Those of whom it is written, ’Though thou bray a fool in a mortar, yet will not his folly depart from him,’” interposed Frank, in so sad a tone that no one at the table replied; and few more words were exchanged, till the two brothers were safe outside the house; and then—­

“Amyas,” said Frank, “that was a Devon man’s handiwork, nevertheless; it was Eustace’s handwriting.”

“Impossible!”

“No, lad.  I have been secretary to a prince, and learnt to interpret cipher, and to watch every pen-stroke; and, young as I am, I think that I am not easily deceived.  Would God I were!  Come on, lad; and strike no man hastily, lest thou cut off thine own flesh.”

So forth the two went, along the park to the eastward, and past the head of the little wood-embosomed fishing-town, a steep stair of houses clinging to the cliff far below them, the bright slate roofs and white walls glittering in the moonlight; and on some half-mile farther, along the steep hill-side, fenced with oak wood down to the water’s edge, by a narrow forest path, to a point where two glens meet and pour their streamlets over a cascade some hundred feet in height into the sea below.  By the side of this waterfall a narrow path climbs upward from the beach; and here it was that the two brothers expected to meet the messenger.