"Yes. You're very late," she said, and switched on her torch.
He seemed to leap towards her. "Put it out! Don't show a light!" he whispered urgently.
She obeyed him but said as coolly as she was able: "Take care. You're likely to get shot if you dash at me like that. What's the matter?" The torch-light had given her a brief glimpse of his face, unnaturally pallid, sweat glistening on his forehead. He sounded out of breath and seemed to be listening intently, his head a little bent.
He moved to her side and grasped her left wrist. "For God's sake, get away from here!" he whispered. "I shouldn't have let you come. I warned you it wasn't safe. Someone followed me. Get out quickly!"
Almost without meaning to she lowered her voice, trying to keep it steady. "You're trying to put me off. I'm not having any. We're here to talk business."
He spoke with a kind of suppressed venom. "You know what happened to your brother. Do you want to go the same road? I tell you I'm being watched. Come away from here quickly!"
He pulled her towards the door. Realising that his agitation was not feigned she went with him and allowed him to hurry her back into the shelter of the trees. He stopped to listen again. She could hear nothing, but he drew her still farther into the shade.
He let her go. "I daren't stop. I swear I'm on the level. I'll meet you, but not here. It's getting too hot for me. You ought never to have rung me up." He broke off to listen again. "He's on to me," he whispered. "I'll have to go. For God's sake, miss, go back to London! You're in much worse danger than you know. I'll meet you - on my word, I will!"
"You'd better," she said. "You know what I'm holding."
He gave a soundless chuckle. "Half a loaf, miss. That's not enough."