"That is my own attitude," was his answer, "and as far as stories about German spies are concerned, I think they are worked up by the Press in order to increase the circulation of the papers. By the way, have you ever seen anything suspicious in this neighborhood? This," and he looked towards the bay, "would be a splendid spot for German boats to land if they wanted to do so." "Why should they want to land in a remote corner of the world like this?" I asked. "Exactly," he replied, "only I was wondering whether you, who live here alone, had ever seen or heard anything which aroused your suspicions?" "No," I replied, not thinking it worth while to tell him anything about the brooch I had found. "You have seen nothing and heard nothing, then?" he persisted. "I have only been here a short time," I replied. "Why do you ask?" "I only wondered, that is all. The people over at St. Eia say that foreigners have been sneaking around trying to pick up information, and I wondered whether you had heard anything." "No," I replied, "nothing at all." "I suppose," he said, "that these cliffs here are honey-combed with caves? Have you seen any of them?" "Yes," I replied. "I saw one the day after I came here. I came upon it suddenly, for the entrance to it is only a fissure in the rocks." "Ah!" he cried. "Did you enter?" "Yes," was my reply, "but it was not at all mysterious. I could see all round it by the aid of a match, and it contained nothing. Of course, it was very curious and very interesting." "But you saw nothing suspicious?" he asked. I shook my head. My visitor did not remain long after this, and although for a time I wondered why he should be so interested, I soon ceased to pay attention to his questions. Perhaps I should have thought more about him, but just before noon I had another visitor. This was a young fellow about twenty-two years of age, whom I knew to be an Oxford man before he had spoken a dozen words. "My name is Lethbridge," he said. "My people live up at Trecarrel yonder,
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