donations were scarce in that locality. The two descended the hill past the ruins, over the stream and through the gate, where Henri patiently awaited them.
"Make for Kingsbridge," said his master, "over the same roads by which you came. Drive carefully out of this valley, and when you reach the highway, forget that there's a speed limit. I want to be in Kingsbridge before dark."
They negotiated the rough lane beside the stream with success, and completed the run to Kingsbridge in the fastest time on record, but without molestation. The elasticity of the law is wonderful when you get more than two hundred miles west of London. Very soon after their arrival in Kingsbridge, Stranleigh and Blake sat down to an excellent dinner at the "King's Arms," an ancient hostelry that had begun existence as a Church House, entered an era of prosperity as a coaching inn, and now was modernised to meet the motor traffic. Stranleigh had been silent since leaving the lonely coastguard station. Ordering a tankard of white beer as an experiment, he said to Blake:
"This meal doubtless excels the cuisine of our friend the caretaker."
"Did you really intend to stop on that horrible headland?"
