“It’s a big lot of water, surely,” the man replied, looking over the sea with an air of interest as if the sight were altogether novel to him.  “A powerful lot of water.  And I have heard them say that you often come out here?”

“Yes, I often come out,” Ralph assented.

“Don’t you think now it is dangerous so near the edge of the cliff, yer honor?  Just one step and over you would go, and it would be ten chances to one that the next tide would drift your body away, and divil a one know what had become of you.”

“But I don’t mean to take a false step,” Ralph said.

“Sure, there is many a one takes a false step when he isn’t dreaming about it; and if ye didn’t tumble over by yourself, just a push would do it.”

“Yes, but there is no one to give one a push,” Ralph said.

“Maybe and maybe not,” the man replied.  “I don’t say if I was a gentleman, and could spind me time as I liked, that I would be sitting here on the edge of these cliffs, where you might come to harm any minute.”

“I have no fear of coming to harm,” Ralph answered; “and I should be sorry for any one who tried.  I always carry a pistol.  Not that I think there is any chance of having to use it but it’s always as well to be prepared.”

“It is that, yer honor, always as well; but I don’t think I should be always coming out here if I was you.”

“Why not, my good fellow?  I harm no one, and interfere with no one.  Surely it is open to me to come here and look at the sea without any one taking offense at it.”

“That’s as it may be, yer honor.  Anyhow I have told you what I think of it.  Good-morning to you.”

“I wonder what that fellow meant,” Ralph said, looking after him.  “He meant something, I feel certain, though what it is I can’t imagine.  I thought it was as well to let him know that I had a pistol handy, though he didn’t look as if he intended mischief.  I suppose after this I had better not come here so often, though I have not the remotest idea in the world why I should annoy any one more by standing here than if I was standing on the cliff in front of Dover Castle.  However, it certainly is a lonely place, and I should have precious little chance if two or three men took it into their heads to attack me here.”

“They are queer people these Irish peasants of yours, O’Connor,” Ralph said as they sat at dinner that evening.

“What’s the matter with them now, Conway?”

“One can’t even go and look at the sea from their cliffs without their taking it amiss,” and Ralph related the conversation he had had with the peasant, adding that he was convinced he had been watched whenever he went there.

“It is curious, certainly,” the captain said when he had finished.  “No doubt they think you are spying after something; but that would not trouble them unless there was something they were afraid of your finding out.  Either there has been something going on, or there is some hiding-place down there on the face of the cliff, where maybe they have a still at work.  Anyhow, I don’t think I should neglect the warning, Conway.  You might be killed and thrown over the cliff, and no one be the wiser for it.  I should certainly advise you to give up mooning about.”