It was a pocket-handkerchief of large size.
Gheena said "Crabbit, you beast!" turning away; but Stafford bent down and picked the sodden rag up; then dropped it again with a sharp exclamation and looked out to sea.
"We'll go back." Gheena walked towards the house. The kitchen chimney was absolutely pouring out smoke, heaving against the evening light.
"After all," said Stafford, "if there had been no war someone else would have been employed for the drainage, and I should never have come here."
Gheena, nose in air, considered the evening sky.
He laughed slightly bitterly.
"And it doesn't much matter when I go away again, I suppose," he said. "There is the Professor on the cliffs. He must have sampled every rock in the place by now."
"And also Hook, coming back." Gheena stopped to look at the General's man. "He seems to do everything except look after his master, that man of the General's."
Hook and the Professor met upon the cliffs and spoke. Then the valet overtook them.
"Been right away to the point, sir," he said to Stafford. "Regular nest of caves and holes, this coast."