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“No,” Fenella said again painfully. “It was just moon-madness, that’s all.”

“Well, it took me in all right,” Rosemary said candidly. “And Anthony! It looked so very much like the real thing! Hey—” her voice sharpened—“when did you say Martin was coming back?”

“He didn’t quite know—just any day now,” Fenella explained. “Why?”

“Because, my dear, you’re in for a pleasant surprise! ” Rosemary told her dryly. “He’s back! Look, coming down the cliff path!”

She was right! Martin had passed the gate in the Lyon House fencing. He was clearly visible to the watching girls, but oddly enough he didn’t see them. Then as the path twisted, outcrops of rock hid him from their sight.

“Rosemary, I can’t meet him now,” Fenella said desperately. “He’d see—he’d guess—”

“And that might not be a bad thing, either,” Rosemary muttered under her breath. “Well, all right, if that’s the way you feel. Nip along to the lower path while I—no, wait a minute! He’s not coming this way. If you ask me, he’s going to have another look at the cave—hey, what’s the matter? That’s my arm when you’ve finished with it! ”

For Fenella had caught her arm in a painful grasp as, with her other hand she pointed out to sea.

“Look, that’s Tom Polwyn’s boat coming round the headland! Yes, you can see it’s him! He must have seen Martin—and do you see what’s lying athwart the boat? It’s a shotgun! If Martin comes out—!"

“IF Martin comes out—'' The words seemed to hang quivering on the air and their meaning was unmistakable.

“Oh, nonsense, Fenella,” Rosemary said uneasily. “How could he possibly have known that Martin would come down to the cave just then? It’s just by chance that Polwyn’s got his gun.”

“All right, it may be—though I can’t see why he should want it! Besides, it was just by chance that someone—and I still think it was Polwyn—had an opportunity of coshing Martin. So
Fm
taking no chances! I’m going to warn him to stay under cover in the cave and you’re to go and tell Anthony, Rosemary. Do you understand?”

“Oh, all right,” Rosemary agreed. Fenella in this mood was impossible to withstand, and in any case, Rosemary had caught something of her alarm.

“Go by the lower path,” Fenella went on urgently. “It’ll be safer than the cliff way—”

“And much longer,” Rosemary pointed out. “No, I'll go up the cliff. I don’t think Polwyn will shoot me, particularly if we can make him think we don’t know Martin’s there. I know there’s not much time to waste, but we’ve got to put him off the scent! We mustn’t hurry—just stroll along and if he’s out for mischief, he’ll be only too glad to see the back of two witnesses! There’ll just be time for you to slip round the rock that hides the cave entry from the sea and by the time he can see I’m on my own, I’ll be so far up the cliff that I’ll be out of range. Now then—
stroll,
Fenella, stroll as if we’ve got all day before us! ”

It was wise advice, Fenella knew, but every instinct told her to run as quickly as she could. Polwyn was getting nearer every moment—yet with every appearance of leisureliness, Rosemary sent two or three flat stones skiting in long, graceful bounds across the surface of the water. It was sheer torture to Fenella as the seconds ticked by—

“There, that ought to have put him off,” Rosemary said with satisfaction as she brushed a few grains of sand off her hands. “Come on! ”

A few moments later they reached the bottom of the path. Rosemary, with a brief: “Good luck!” to Fenella, turned up it.

And now Fenella, on her own, covered the few additional yards that took her to the protected mouth of the cave. Momentarily she turned. The tide was coming in fast now. Soon it would be impossible to get out of the outer cave and finding the entry to the inner one might be difficult since the daylight didn’t penetrate more than a few feet.

And then suppose, after all, that instead of going into the cave, Martin had walked past it! Sooner or later he would come back, an ideal target for Polwyn who, by then, would be able to come in closer to the base of the cliffs—

But it was no good thinking about it. Fenella set her teeth and with her heart in her mouth, ducked under the low entry to the outer cave. She paused, listening. There wasn’t a sound except that of the sea outside—

She took a few more steps into increasing darkness, stumbled and almost fell—panic seized her.

“Martin!” she screamed desperately. “Martin!”

His name echoed round the cave, but that was the only sound. With a little sob, Fenella struggled to her feet. She must find the way into the smaller cave as quickly as possible now, for her own sake as well as Martin’s. Otherwise, if she was trapped where she was, she’d drown—

Hands outstretched, she took a few more steps and shouted his name again and again. Suddenly a thin pencil of light shone from the back of the cave and the terrifying darkness vanished. Then the light wavered as its holder jumped to the lower level of the outer cave.

Then a miracle happened.

Strong arms encircled Fenella and held her close and Martin’s voice, shaken and urgent, spoke in her ear.

“Fenella, my precious darling, what it is? What’s the matter?”

She clung to him, laughing and sobbing all in one breath, forgetting the danger that might be lurking outside in the realisation that against all probabilities, Martin loved her. There was no doubt in her mind. She could hear it in his voice, feel it in his touch—she gave a little sigh of happiness and nestled her head contentedly against his shoulder.

Then Martin said her name again, questioningly, incredulously:

“Fenella?”

She didn’t try to pretend that she didn’t know what he meant.

“Oh yes, Martin,
yes
!” she told him breathlessly, and felt his arms tighten.

“We’re going to get married soon—very soon,” he told her firmly. “Understand?”

“Yes, of course!” and she heard his quick indrawn breath at her ready agreement.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” he whispered. “Fenella—Fenella—!”

She felt his lips on hers and knew that whatever that earlier kiss might have meant, this was real—
real.
It meant—it could only mean—

“I love you, Fenella! ”

He spoke hardly above a whisper, but she heard.

“And I—” she began, and stopped because she had heard another sound—the sound of the sea in the cave itself. Martin heard it too, and flashed on his torch.

“We’ll have to get out at once, Fenella.” He spoke urgently, but even at such a moment there was no panic in his manner. But then he didn’t know—

“We can’t get out, Martin! That’s why I came in after you. To tell you that Polwyn’s almost certainly waiting out there in his boat—and he’s got his gun with him!”

“Has he, indeed?” Martin said softly. “That’s interesting ! Tell me quickly—”

She did as he asked, and he listened intently and knew that though he might have taken a chance if he had been alone, he couldn’t possibly do so with Fenella there. So, when she had finished, he switched on the torch and flashed it seawards. Already a line of froth which marked the limit to which the tide had so far reached was well inside the entry to the cave.

“There’s only one thing for it,” he said matter-of-factly. “Get into the inner cave and wait until the tide goes down. By then either Polwyn will have got tired of waiting—if that’s what he’s doing—or else Anthony will have got cracking. Come along, darling, the less time we waste, the better!”

By the light of the torch it was quite easy to clamber up the rocks which led to the inner cave and with Martin just behind her, what had been a frightening situation turned into an exciting adventure.

“Here we are," Martin said cheerfully, flashing the torch round the little chamber. “As dry as a bone! I don’t believe the sea gets into it even at spring tides. And the air keeps perfectly fresh—there’s a fissure up in that corner. I found it by lighting a small fire in the middle of the floor. The smoke was drawn up there in an unmistakable way. Not afraid, darling?”

“Good gracious, no!” Fenella said in surprise. “We’re together, aren’t we?”

With a murmured endearment, he drew her close again.

“In every sense, beloved!”

And then, after a pause which might have been either an eternity or only of a second’s duration, he remarked thoughtfully:

“We’re going to have quite a long wait and I don’t know that this is exactly the place I’d have chosen to make love to you, but it has one great advantage—no one’s likely to interrupt!”

Fenella gave a little spurt of laughter.

“That’s a nice sound,” Martin said approvingly. “D’you know, the thing that made me realise just how interested I was getting in you was that I found myself concerned because you laughed so little—and I thought what fun it would be if we could share jokes and laugh together. That may not sound very romantic to you, but as I said, it started me thinking! ”

“And what
did
you think?” Fenella asked with considerable interest.

“Let’s make ourselves as comfortable as we can and I’ll tell you,” Martin suggested. He flashed the torch round again. “We’re going to find this rods uncommonly hard before we get out, but I think that comer will be as good as any. At least there’s a sort of seat and something to lean back against!”

They settled themselves in the comer, Martin’s arm round Fenella, her head on his shoulder. For a time neither of them spoke. Then, with his cheek against her soft hair, Martin began to talk in a way that suggested he was thinking aloud.

“Life has always been a challenge to me, you know. I’ve enjoyed taking risks and overcoming difficulties. And I’ve been lucky. My parents couldn’t really have liked me going off as I did, but they understood how I felt and they’ve never put obstacles in my way or made me feel guilty when I’ve gone off. So I’ve been free— really free—to do just as I liked. And I fully intended staying that way. No getting involved in marriage until I was ready to settle down—if that time ever came. And, frankly, I couldn’t see it doing so!” He paused and she felt him shake with laughter. “I was so sure of myself that I suppose I got over-confident. Anyway, the next thing I knew was that I was head over heels in love with a girl who had absolutely no use for me at all! And that meant I’d met with the greatest challenge of my life!” He drew a deep breath. “I was furious!” he concluded feelingly.

“Furious?” Fenella said indignantly. “But why?”

“Because, as I said, such a thing had never featured in my plans for life. But mainly because I was at such a disadvantage. Without any warning, I suddenly found myself in a strange world. I’d never been in love before—”

“Rosemary?” Fenella asked softly.

“Rosemary?” There was no mistaking the astonishment in his voice. “Good heavens, no! What on earth put that into your head?”

“She’s very lovely—” Fenella murmured.

“She is, indeed,” Martin agreed appreciatively. “But as far as I’m concerned, she might have a face like the back of a bus. I admit I’ve often wondered why—but there it is. Perhaps it’s been because we met in rather queer circumstances—”

“I know, she told me,” Fenella said gently. “She told me that you were the best friend she’d ever had.”

“Did she? I’m glad of that,” Martin said simply. “I’ve sometimes wondered if I was right to interfere—particularly when I saw her again in Fairhaven and she had that awful, frozen look on her face. As if so much of her had died that it was unreasonable and inhuman to expect what was left of her to go on living—I don’t know—”

“I think—I hope that soon you’ll be quite sure it was a good thing you came along when you did.” Fenella reassured him.

“Oh? Anthony? You think something will come of that? Well, he’s a good chap—and fairly obviously the only person who could possibly bring her back to life. But you’re sure you don’t mind, Fenella?”

“No, I don’t,” she said unhesitatingly. “In fact, it was realising, when Rosemary told me that Anthony had asked her to marry him since she’s been back, that I didn’t mind that I began to understand—” She moved her head so that her lips brushed his. “It was you who came first—”

Martin drew a deep breath.

“That’s one of the best things I’ve ever heard,” he told her fervently. “You see, darling, I couldn’t help realising that you did care very deeply for Anthony—”

“I did. And I still do,” Fenella explained candidly. “Only differently. Not in a way now that you need ever give a thought to, Martin. Honestly!”

“Bless you, honey,” Martin said tenderly. “But it did put me in a spot because though, as I said, you did care for Trevose, there was something so completely— unawakened was the word I used to myself about you, that I couldn’t help wondering, quite apart from Trevose’s possible feelings, whether it would—could—last for you.”

“I don’t know the answer to that myself,” Fenella admitted. “If I’d never met you, if Rosemary hadn’t come back, I might have gone on imagining—particularly as I—”

“Particularly as you were being encouraged to believe that you were in love with Trevose—and he with you,” Martin said sternly.

“But not by Anthony,” Fenella said quickly. “He did his very best—” she paused. “It’s rather a long story, Martin, and—and not a very nice one in places, but in fairness to Anthony I think you ought to know—I’d rather you did, in fact. Because then we can both forget all about it.”

“If that’s how you honestly feel,” Martin agreed. “But you don’t have to tell me, you know, Fenella. Your word’s good enough for me!”

“I’d rather, if you don’t mind—”

And so, in the quiet darkness which made it so much easier somehow, Martin heard for the first time of that shattering breakfast-time statement of Anthony’s, and of the understanding that had only come to her slowly which had explained why he had said it at all.

“In fact, it wasn’t until I found out that he’d known all along how I—” even now the shame of that discovery brought a quiver to her voice, and Martin’s arm tightened comfortingly.

“My poor little love,” he said compassionately. “But how did you find that out? Not from Trevose, surely?”