I take the short cuts that no one else dare venture by--over the cliffs and through the cave-holes of the sea.

When the old man comes down, tell him I'll have a care of him if he passes my way.

I like his face! I think he's something more than he seems." "So do I!" agreed Miss Tranter.

"I'd almost swear that he's a gentleman, fallen on hard times." "A gentleman!" Tom o' the Gleam laughed disdainfully--"What's that?
Only a robber grown richer than his neighbours! Better be a plain Man any day than your up-to-date 'gentleman'!" With another laugh he swung away, and Miss Tranter remained, as already stated, at the door of the inn for many minutes, watching his easy stride over the rough stones and clods of the "by-road" winding down to the sea.

His figure, though so powerfully built, was singularly graceful in movement, and commanded the landscape much as that of some chieftain of old might have commanded it in that far back period of time when mountain thieves and marauders were the progenitors of all the British kings and their attendant nobility.
"I wish I knew that man's real history!" she mused, as he at last disappeared from her sight.