The rocket apparatus had been got out, and searchers had scoured the cliffs as far as Porth Pyg, but nothing was to be seen.

The search-party were returning, when they found a shipwrecked sailor in company with a small boy, one Jasper Trenoweth, in Ready-Money Cove.
At the sound of my own name I started, and for the second time since our entry felt the eyes of the stranger question me.

At the same time I felt my mother's clasp of my hand tighten, and knew that she saw that look.
The air grew closer and the walls seemed to draw nearer as Jonathan's voice continued its drowsy tale.

The afternoon sun poured in at the window until it made the little wainscoted parlour like an oven, but still for me it only lit up one pair of eyes.

The voices sounded more and more like those of a dream; the scratching of pens and shuffling of feet were, to my ears, as distant murmurs of the sea, until the coroner's voice called--"Georgio Rhodojani." Instantly I was wide awake, with every nerve on the stretch.