She obeyed him, descending the wooden steps to the lower level. The fisherman looked up indifferently and rose, his fish strung.
"You're sure you don't want to change your mind?" asked Rowland pleasantly.
"No--it is verboten."
"Is this your boat?"
"Yes--but----"
"A hundred marks, Herr Fisherman," said Rowland bringing the money out and holding it before the man's eyes again.
The man dropped his fish and scowled at Rowland.
"Donnerwetter! Have I not said----?"
There was no time to waste. Rowland had put both their necks into a noose which this idiot would draw if they parleyed longer.
"Get in the sail-boat, Zoya," he said coolly and the bewildered fisherman watched her obey. "Your money----"