Lombard said at last:

«What are we going to do when night comes?»

Vera didn’t answer. He went on accusingly:

«You haven’t thought of that?»

She said helplessly: «What can we do? Oh, my God, I’m frightened…»

Philip Lombard said thoughtfully:

«It’s fine weather. There will be a moon. We must find a place – up by the top cliffs perhaps. We can sit there and wait for morning. We mustn’t go to sleep… We must watch the whole time. And if any one comes up towards us, I shall shoot!» He paused: «You’ll be cold, perhaps, in that thin dress?»

Vera said with a raucous laugh:

«Cold? I should be colder if I were dead!»

Philip Lombard said quietly: «Yes, that’s true…»

Vera moved restlessly. She said:

«I shall go mad if I sit here any longer. Let’s move about.»

«All right.»

They paced slowly up and down, along the line of the rocks overlooking the sea. The sun was dropping towards the west. The light was golden and mellow. It enveloped them in a golden glow.

Vera said, with a sudden nervous little giggle:

«Pity we can’t have a bathe…»

Philip was looking down towards the sea. He said abruptly:

«What’s that, there? You see – by that big rock? No – a little further to the right.»

Vera stared. She said:

«It looks like somebody’s clothes!»

«A bather, eh?» Lombard laughed. «Queer. I suppose it’s only seaweed.»

Vera said: «Let’s go and look.»

«It is clothes,» said. Lombard as they drew nearer. «A bundle of them. That’s a boot. Come on, let’s scramble along here.»

They scrambled over the rocks. Vera stopped suddenly. She said:

«It’s not clothes – it’s a man…»

The man was wedged between two rocks, flung there by the tide earlier in the day.

Lombard and Vera reached it in a last scramble. They bent down. A purple discoloured face – a hideous drowned face…

Lombard said: «My God! It’s Armstrong…»