There was still a heavy sea, but it was merely the swell
from the day before. The wind had dropped, and the sun was shining
brilliantly. Sir Henry, Helen, and Nora were strolling about the
beach as though searching for something. About fifty yards out, the
wrecked trawler was lying completely on its side, with the end of
one funnel visible. Scattered groups of the villagers were examining
it from the sands. In due course Mills returned.
"The hotel people know nothing of Mr. Lessingham, your ladyship,
beyond the fact that he did not return last night. They received a
message from Hill's Garage, however, about half an hour ago, to
say that their mechanic had driven Mr. Lessingham early this morning
to Norwich, where he had caught the mail train to London, The boy
was to say that Mr. Lessingham would be back in a day or so."
Philippa pushed open the windows and made her way down towards the
beach. She leaned over the rail of the promenade and waved her hand
to the others, who clambered up the shingle to meet her.
"Scarcely seen you yet, my dear, have I?" Sir Henry observed.
He stooped and kissed her forehead, a salute which she suffered without
response. Helen pointed to the wreck.
"It doesn't seem possible, does it," she said, "that men's lives
should have been lost in that little space. Two men were drowned,
they say, through the breaking of the rope.
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