My
question is--why didn't she strike that? If she slipped, by accident,
from off the Spit, she fell in where there's foothold at the bottom, at
a depth that would barely cover her to the waist. She must have waded
out, or jumped out, into the Deeps beyond--or she wouldn't be missing
now. No accident, sir! The Deeps of the Quicksand have got her. And they
have got her by her own act."
After that testimony from a man whose knowledge was to be relied on, the
Sergeant was silent. The rest of us, like him, held our peace. With one
accord, we all turned back up the slope of the beach.
At the sand-hillocks we were met by the under-groom, running to us from
the house. The lad is a good lad, and has an honest respect for me. He
handed me a little note, with a decent sorrow in his face. "Penelope
sent me with this, Mr. Betteredge," he said. "She found it in Rosanna's
room."
It was her last farewell word to the old man who had done his
best--thank God, always done his best--to befriend her.
"You have often forgiven me, Mr. Betteredge, in past times. When you
next see the Shivering Sand, try to forgive me once more. I have found
my grave where my grave was waiting for me.
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