“Oh, it’s too good of you,” stammered Davies, in a more unhappy accent than usual. “We can easily find one for ourselves. A man at Wangeroog offered——”
“Oh, did he?” interrupted von Brüning, laughing. “I’m not surprised. You don’t know the Frieslanders. They’re guileless, as I said, but they cling to their little perquisites.” (I translated to Davies.) “They’ve been cheated out of wrecks, and they’re all the more sensitive about ducks, which are more lucrative than fish. A stranger is a poacher. Your man would have made slight errors as to time and place.”
“You said they were odd in their manner, didn’t you, Davies?” I put in. “Look here, this is very kind of Commander von Brüning; but hadn’t we better be certain of my plans before settling down to shoot? Let’s push on direct to Norderney and get that letter of mine, and then decide. But we shan’t see you again, I suppose, Commander?”
“Why not? I am cruising westwards, and shall probably call at Norderney. Come aboard if you’re there, won’t you? I should like to show you the Blitz.”
“Thanks, very much,” said Davies, uneasily.
“Thanks, very much,” said I, as heartily as I could.
Our party broke up soon after this.
“Well, gentlemen, I must take leave of you,” said our friend. “I have to drive to Esens. I shall be going back to the Blitz on the evening tide, but you’ll be busy then with your own boat.”
It had been a puzzling interview, but the greatest puzzle was still to come. As we went towards the door, von Brüning made a sign to me. We let Davies pass out and remained standing.
“One word in confidence with you, Herr Carruthers,” he said, speaking low. “You won’t think me officious, I hope. I only speak out of keen regard for your friend. It is about the Dollmanns—you see how the land lies? I wouldn’t encourage him.”