They both listened. In the stillness of the night regular steps sounded plainly from a distance.
“It is the patrol on the terrace,” said Carpentaria.
“It is assuredly on the terrace—the sound of heavy boots on stone flags, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Pauline agreed, loosing his arm.
They were twenty or thirty yards from the house.
“I want you to be brave and to do something for me.”
Carpentaria turned to her.
“What is it?”
“Go to the patrol, and tell him I have sent you, and that he is to remain within sight of the boat there, until further orders, keeping as much in the background as possible. Will you go?”
“Alone?”