Mr. Stafford returned gloomily that Darby was one of the best. If Miss Freyne meant to marry her intended——
"But ... of course." Then Gheena's voice died again. She was acutely conscious of a struggle with tears as hands gripped hers for a second.
"You must keep off the rocks at night," said Stafford. "For a reason. Promise, I beg it of you."
"If you will keep off them" was what Miss Freyne muttered in a strangled voice. "I ... ask you to." She ran away.
"Hang," remarked Stafford savagely.
A few days later Mr. Keefe got his commission, and left at a few hours' notice, wildly excited. He was now Captain Keefe in a well-known regiment, and his mind was taken up by Sam Browne belts and revolvers. So quickly did he go that his farewell even to Mrs. Weston was a brief one, though he had just time to hint that he now thought if he survived he might ask anyone to marry him. He was replaced by a rather elderly man, whom the police seemed to regard with awed respect.
Gheena had almost broken down when she had talked to Stafford, but her resolution was only deepened. She must see, and see alone the face of the man who had arranged to put petrol in those caves!
For several nights the two-seater slipped unheard down the back avenue and along a narrow by-lane to the Dower House, where it was left hidden near some bushes until Gheena crept to her boat. She grew used to rowing out alone in the chill darkness in her short skirt and a thick coat, until one night, in a murky warmth, she rowed right out opposite the cave, and thought that she heard voices on the shore—voices subdued and muffled. Creeping in, Gheena saw someone on the shore—a dark, indefinite figure on the very edge of the sea. Next moment her heart throbbed suddenly, for even in the darkness she believed that she knew it. And she rowed desperately out. It felt safer at sea; she did not want to be sure. After this violent spurt she let the boat drift, lying in the trough of the swell; it would be time enough to pull when she heard the waves on the rocks. She drifted quickly. Lying there, she was almost invisible, and Gheena Freyne's heart leaped and missed a beat, a chill horror of certainty creeping up her spine as, quite naturally, the periscope of a submarine nosed up quite close to her, and a long thing like a whale showed in the dim light.
It might be an English submarine. It might.... Gheena sat as a bird before an able-bodied snake, completely afraid to do anything, because just then very low and cautious murmurs commenced to discuss matters in German, and a laughing gull called. Also, it seemed to Gheena, with a German accent.
One man said that he trusted that the Irish pig would be out in a moment, and a second, subservient but decided, trusted so, as if he did not, then, owing to the sudden unforeseen accidents, they were completely powerless to get away. This voice appeared to regret the blasphemous language of the Herr Captain, but repeated its statement decorously.