“The Germans can’t have got her. They have no commerce-destroyers in these waters,” Bethune remarked, with a glance at Dick. “Your navy corralled the lot, I think.”
Dick wondered why Bethune looked at him, but he answered carelessly: “So one understands. But it’s strange the French company cut out the last call. There was a big quantity of freight on the mole.”
“It looks as if the agent had suspected something,” Stuyvesant replied. “However, that’s not our affair, and you want to get busy and have your specifications and cost-sheets straight when Fuller comes.”
“Then Fuller is coming back!” Dick exclaimed.
“He’ll be here to-morrow night. I imagined Bethune had told you about the cablegram he sent.”
“He didn’t; I expect he thought his getting a scratch lunch more important,” Dick replied, looking at his watch. “Well, I must see everything’s ready before the boys make a start.”
He went away with swift, decided steps through the scorching heat, and Stuyvesant smiled.
“There you have a specimen of the useful Anglo-Saxon type. I don’t claim that he’s a smart man all round, but he can concentrate on his work and put over what he takes in hand. You wouldn’t go to him for a brilliant plan, but give him an awkward job and he’ll make good. I expect he’ll get a lift up when Fuller has taken a look round.”
“He deserves it,” Bethune agreed.
Though the heat was intense and the glare from the white dam dazzling, Dick found work something of a relief. It was his habit to fix his mind upon the task in which he was engaged; but of late his thoughts had been occupied by Clare and conjectures about the Adexe coaling station and the strange black-funnel boat. The delay in the French liner’s arrival had made the matter look more urgent, but he had now an excuse for putting off its consideration. His duty to his employer came first. There were detailed plans that must be worked out before Fuller came and things he would want to know, and Dick sat up late at night in order to have the answers ready.