The Haute Noblesse: A Novel. Fenn George Manville

far as he could reach.

      “Thank ye,” said Harry mockingly, and twenty yards away. “Little farther, please. What a lovely day for a swim!”

      “Harry, pray come into the boat,” cried Louise excitedly.

      “What for? Mind the porpoise.”

      He gave a few sharp blows on the water with his hands, raising himself up and turning right over, dived, his legs just appearing above the surface, and then there was an eddy where he had gone down.

      “Don’t be frightened,” whispered Madelaine, whose voice sounded a little husky.

      “Here we are again!” cried Harry, reappearing close to the boat and spluttering the water from his lips, as with all the gaiety of a boy he looked mirthfully at the occupants of the boat. “Any orders for pearls, ladies?”

      “Don’t be foolish, Harry,” said Louise, as he swam close to them.

      “Not going to be. I say, Leslie, take the boat-hook away from that fellow, or he’ll be making a hole in the bottom of the boat.”

      As he spoke, he laid a hand upon the gunwale and looked merrily from one to the other.

      “Don’t touch me, girls. I’m rather damp,” he said. “I say, what a capital bathing dress flannels make!”

      “Shall I help you in?” said Leslie.

      “No, thank ye, I’m all right. As I am in, I may as well have a swim.”

      “No, no, Harry, don’t be foolish,” cried Louise.

      “There, you’d better hitch a rope round me, and tow me behind, or I shall swamp the boat.”

      “Harry! what are you going to do?” cried Madelaine, as he loosened his hold of the gunwale, and began to swim away.

      “Wait a bit and you’ll see,” he cried. “Leslie, you take care of the boat. I shan’t be long.”

      “But Harry – ”

      “All right, I tell you.”

      “Where are you going?”

      “In here,” he shouted back, and he swam straight to the low opening at the foot of the massive granite cliff, paddled a little at the mouth till the efflux of water was over, and then as the fresh wave came, he took a few strokes, gave a shout, and to the horror of the two girls seemed to be sucked right into the opening.

      As he disappeared, he gave another shout, a hollow strange echoing “Good-bye,” and a few moments after there was a run back of the water and a hollow roar, and it needed very little exercise of the imagination to picture the rugged opening as the mouth of some marine monster into which the young man had passed.

      Chapter Three

      Discords

      “Don’t be alarmed,” said Leslie quietly, “I daresay it is like one of the zorns yonder, only the mouth is too narrow for a boat.”

      “But it is so foolish,” said Louise, giving him a grateful look.

      “Yes, but he swims so easily and well, there is nothing to mind. What are you going to do, Mr Pradelle?”

      “Work the boat close up so as to help him,” said Pradelle shortly.

      “No, don’t do that. We have had one escape from a capsize. We must keep out here in deep water.”

      Pradelle frowned.

      “I think I know what I’m about, sir,” he said sharply; “do you suppose I am going to sit here when my friend may be in danger?”

      “I have no doubt you know what you are about in London, sir,” said Leslie quietly, “but this is not a pavement in the Strand, and it is not safe to take the boat closer in.”

      Pradelle was about to make some retort, but Louise interposed.

      “Try if you can get nearer the mouth of that dreadful place, Mr Leslie,” she said, “I am getting terribly alarmed.”

      Leslie seated himself, took the oars, turned the boat, and backed slowly and cautiously in, holding himself ready to pull out again at the slightest appearance of danger. For the sea rushed against the rocky barrier with tremendous force, while even on this calm day, the swing and wash and eddy amongst the loose rocks was formidable.

      By skilful management Leslie backed the boat to within some thirty feet of the opening; but the position was so perilous that he had to pull out for a few yards to avoid a couple of rocks, which in the movement of the clear water seemed to be rising toward them from time to time, and coming perilously near.

      Then he shouted, but there was no answer. He shouted again and again, but there was no reply, and a chill of horror, intensifying from moment to moment, came upon all.

      “Harry! Harry!” cried Louise, now raising her voice, as Madelaine crept closer to her and clutched her hand.

      But there was no reply. No sound but the rush and splash and hiss of the waters as they struck the rocks, and came back broken from the attack.

      “What folly!” muttered Leslie, with his face growing rugged. Then quickly, “I don’t think you need feel alarmed; I dare say he has swum in for some distance, and our voices do not reach him. Stop a moment.”

      He suddenly remembered a little gold dog-whistle at his watch-chain, and raising it to his lips he blew long and shrilly, till the ear piercing note echoed along the cliff, and the gulls came floating lazily overhead and peering wonderingly down.

      “I say, Harry, old man, come out now,” cried Pradelle, and then rising from his seat, he placed his hands on either side of his lips, and uttered the best imitation he could manage of the Australian call, “Coo-ey! Coo-ey!”

      There were echoes and whispers, and the rush and hiss of the water. Then two or three times over there came from out of the opening a peculiar dull hollow sound, such as might be made by some great animal wallowing far within.

      “Mr Leslie,” said Louise in a low appealing voice, “what shall we do?”

      “Oh, wait a few minutes, my dear Miss Vine,” interposed Pradelle, hastily. “He’ll be out directly. I assure you there is no cause for alarm.”

      Leslie frowned, but his face coloured directly, for his heart gave a great throb.

      Louise paid not the slightest heed to Pradelle’s words, but kept her limpid eyes fixed appealingly upon Leslie’s, as if she looked to him for help.

      “I hardly know what to do,” he said in a low business-like tone. “I dare not leave you without some one to manage the boat, or I would go in.”

      “Yes, yes, pray go!” she said excitedly, “Never mind us.”

      “We could each take an oar and keep the boat here,” said Madelaine quickly, “we can both row.”

      “No, really; I’ll manage the boat,” said Pradelle.

      “I think you had better leave it to the ladies, Mr Pradelle,” said Leslie coldly. “They know the coast.”

      “Well really, sir, I – ”

      “This is no time for interference,” cried Madelaine with a flush of excitement, and she caught hold of an oar. “Louie dear, quick!”

      The other oar was resigned, and as Leslie passed aft, he gave Louise one quick look, reading in her face, as he believed, trust and thankfulness and then dread.

      “No, no, Mr Leslie, I hardly dare let you go,” she faltered.

      Plash!

      The boat was rolling and dancing on the surface, relieved of another burden, and Duncan Leslie was swimming toward the opening.

      The two girls dipped their oars from time to time, for their seaside life had given them plenty of experience of the management of a boat; and as Pradelle sat looking sulky and ill-used, they watched the swimmer as he too timed his movements, so that he gradually approached, and then in turn was