Bobby took a deep breath and drove. The ball scudded forward and disappeared over the lip of the abyss.
‘Every single dashed time,’ said Bobby bitterly. ‘I do the same dashed idiotic thing.’ He skirted the chasm, peering over. Far below the sea sparkled, but not every ball was lost in its depths. The drop was sheer at the top, but below it shelved gradually.
Bobby walked slowly along. There was, he knew, one place where one could scramble down fairly easily. Caddies did so, hurling themselves over the edge and reappearing triumphant and panting with the missing ball.
Suddenly Bobby stiffened and called to his companion.
‘I say, doctor, come here. What do you make of that?’ Some forty feet below was a dark heap of something that looked like old clothes.
The doctor caught his breath.
‘By Jove,’ he said. ‘Somebody’s fallen over the cliff. We must get down to him.’ Side by side the two men scrambled down the rock, the more athletic Bobby helping the other. At last they reached the ominous dark bundle. It was a man of about forty, and he was still breathing, though unconscious.
The doctor examined him, touching his limbs, feeling his pulse, drawing down the lids of his eyes. He knelt down beside him and completed his examination. Then he looked up at Bobby, who was standing there feeling rather sick, and slowly shook his head.
‘Nothing to be done,’ he said. ‘His number’s up, poor fellow.
His back’s broken. Well, well. I suppose he wasn’t familiar with the path, and when the mist came up he walked over the edge. I’ve told the council more than once there ought to be a railing just here.’ He stood up again.
‘I’ll go off and get help,’ he said. ‘Make arrangements to have the body got up. It’ll be dark before we know where we are.
Will you stay here?’ Bobby nodded.
“There’s nothing to be done for him, I suppose?’ he asked.
The doctor shook his head.
‘Nothing. It won’t be long – the pulse is weakening fast.
He’ll last another twenty minutes at most. Just possible he may recover consciousness before the end; but very likely he won’t.
Still-‘ ‘Rather,’ said Bobby quickly. ‘I’ll stay. You get along. If he does come to, there’s no drug or anything -‘he hesitated.
The doctor shook his head.
“They’ll be no pain,’ he said. ‘No pain at all.’ Turning away, he began rapidly to climb up the cliff again.
Bobby watched him till he disappeared over the top with a wave of his hand.
Bobby moved a step or two along the narrow ledge, sat down on a projection in the rock and lit a cigarette. The business had shaken him. Up to now he had never come in contact with illness or death.
What rotten luck there was in the world! A swirl of mist on a fine evening, a false step – and life came to an end. Fine healthy-looking fellow too – probably never known a day’s illness in his life. The pallor of approaching death couldn’t disguise the deep tan of the skin. A man who had lived an outof-door life – abroad, perhaps. Bobby studied him more closely – the crisp curling chestnut hair just touched with grey at the temples, the big nose, the strong jaw, the white teeth just showing through the parted lips. Then the broad shoulders and the fine sinewy hands. The legs were twisted at a curious angle.
Bobby shuddered and brought his eyes up again to the face. An attractive face, humorous, determined, resourceful. The eyes, he thought, were probably blue And just as he reached that point in his thoughts, the eyes suddenly opened.
They were blue – a clear deep blue. They looked straight at Bobby. There was nothing uncertain or hazy about them. They seemed completely conscious. They were watchful and at the same time they seemed to be asking a question.
Bobby got up quickly and came towards the man. Before he got there, the other spoke. His voice was not weak – it came out clear and resonant.
‘Why didn’t they ask EvansV he said.
And then a queer little shudder passed over him, the eyelids dropped, the jaw fell.