“Can I use my torch,” Julian enquired, “and what am I to look out for?”

“Heaven knows,” replied Furley, “except that there’s a general suggestion of communications between some person on land and some person approaching from the sea.  I don’t mind confessing that I’ve done this job, on and off, whenever I’ve been down here, for a couple of years, and I’ve never seen or heard a suspicious thing yet.  We are never told a word in our instructions, either, or given any advice.  However, what I should do would be to lie flat down on the top of that bank and listen.  If you hear anything peculiar, then you must use your discretion about the torch.  It’s a nasty job to make over to a pal, Julian, but I know you’re keen on anything that looks like an adventure.”

“All over it,” was the ready reply.  “What about leaving you alone, though, Miles?”

“You put the whisky and soda where I can get at it,” Furley directed, “and I shall be all right.  I’m feeling stronger every moment.  I expect your sea boots are in the scullery.  And hurry up, there’s a good fellow.  We’re twenty minutes behind time, as it is.”

Julian started on his adventure without any particular enthusiasm.  He found the crossing, returned along the side of the bank, trudged along the cart track until he arrived at the gate, and climbed up on the dyke without misadventure.  From here he made his way more cautiously, using his stick with his right hand, his torch, with his thumb upon the knob, in his left.  The lull in the storm seemed to be at an end.  Black, low-hanging clouds were closing in upon him.  Away to the right, where the line of marshes was unbroken, the boom of the wind grew louder.  A gust very nearly blew him down the bank.  He was compelled to shelter for a moment on its lee side, whilst a scud of snow and sleet passed like an icy whirlwind.  The roar of the sea was full in his ears now, and though he must still have been fully two hundred yards away from it, little ghostly specks of white spray were dashed, every now and then, into his face.  From here he made his way with great care, almost crawling, until he came to the stile.  In the marshes he was twice in salt water over his knees, but he scrambled out until he reached the grass-grown sand bank which Furley had indicated.  Obeying orders, he lay down and listened intently for any fainter sounds mingled with the tumult of nature.  After a few minutes, it was astonishing how his eyes found themselves able to penetrate the darkness which at first had seemed like a black wall.  Some distance to the right he could make out the outline of a deserted barn, once used as a coast-guard station and now only a depository for the storing of life belts.  In front of him he could trace the bank of shingle and the line of the sea, and presently the outline of some dark object, lying just out of reach of the breaking waves, attracted his attention.  He watched it steadily.  For some time it was as motionless as the log he presumed it to be.  Then, without any warning, it hunched itself up and drew a little farther back.  There was no longer any doubt.  It was a human being, lying on its stomach with its head turned to the sea.