'It's all right,' I answered. 'I'm only moving just down the fjord.' I ordered Wilson to cast off and had the engine started.
The sun set as we left Fjaerland. For a moment the snows of the Jostedal high above the village were tinged with pink. Then the light faded and the fjord was a dark, cold gash in the mountains, its waters no longer green, but inky black. Night fell quickly and lights began to show in the huddle of wooden buildings round the quay.
Just beyond the headland, not a mile from the village, I steered the boat into a wooden landing stage. Above it, perched precariously on a little plateau of green grass, stood a fisherman's solitary hut. We moored the boat to the rotting piles and I ordered the dinghy to be cleared.
'What's the idea?' Curtis asked.
I glanced round. Jill was standing by the cockpit, watching us. 'I didn't want to lie at Fjaerland with my representative staying up at the hotel,' I said. 'I had a bit of a row with him.' Then I asked Jill to take Wilson and get some food prepared.
As soon as she had gone below, Curtis said, 'Is your representative a short man in a black suit, with a round, chubby face?'
'Yes,' I said.
'Well, he boarded a fishing boat and went off down the fjord about ten minutes before you came back to the boat with Jill.' He looked at me searchingly. 'What are you up to, Bill?' he asked. And then as I didn't answer immediately, he said, 'You're planning to dig Farnell's body up, aren't you?'
'Yes,' I said. 'The church is quite isolated. The moon rises just after midnight. We'll have four hours.'
He caught hold of my arm. His eyes were suddenly angry.