'You see!' she exclaimed, pointing.
A small boat was anchored at the opening of the estuary. Beyond, almost on the horizon, was a thin line of smoke.
'They will not wait for the tide,' she told him, 'not the full tide, that is. They will come up as soon as that sailing boat can make the passage.'
'And who,' Lavendale inquired, 'will be the passenger?'
Her eyes flashed for a moment.
'He will be the man,' she said solemnly, 'who seeks to destroy France.' ...
They wandered a little way further out into the marshland. The air seemed to possess a peculiar saltiness—even in that slightly moving breeze they could feel the brackish taste upon their lips. They watched the tidal way grow deeper every minute. On either side of them the narrow dykes and curving waterways grew fuller and fuller with the tendrils of the sea. About a mile from the distant coast-line the steamer seemed to have come to an anchor, and the white-sailed boat was fluttering about her. Suzanne took Lavendale's arm. He could feel that she was trembling.
'Look here,' he begged, 'tell me a little more of what is going to happen?'
'Somebody will be landed from that steamer,' she said. 'They will come up here, get into the motor-car and start for London. That some one will be empowered to put certain propositions before the Russian Ambassador here, which he in his turn can convey to the Tsar in code. Those propositions will be for a peace which will exclude my country and yours, which will give Russia, temporarily defeated, the terms of a conquering nation.'
He laughed a little contemptuously.