And
while at this height such a fall might not mean death, it surely would
mean broken bones, which in his present plight, hunted and desperate,
amounted to one and the same thing.
The stretch of sand was now only a few yards beneath him. The agitated
sea roared and pounded just beyond. Weak and trembling, chilled to his
very bones, the prisoner at last set foot on level ground. Struggling
on in the wet, giving sand, he searched for the entrance of the
walled-in hiding place. Even in daylight it would be difficult to
find. In the murky dusk it was next to impossible. So far as he knew,
no one but himself and his childhood companions had ever found it. Of
these all but one had been killed in the war. And as for the girl.....
He doubted that she would remember.
At last he found the slight ravine, which led back into the
sea-cliffs. A short distance further was the place where the granite
had split, and one huge shingle buckled and slid forward. Climbing the
slanting crack it formed, he came to the narrow fissure, which in
daylight appeared as little more than a deeper shadow among the
darkened wedge of the seam.
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