“It won’t. Come down to the boat,”
It was still hot, and mangroves burning in the still air smelt fine. She looked so nice standing in the moonlight I nearly said the hell with it. But I didn’t.
I cast off.
“No sleeping-draught for me tomorrow night,” I called, as the boat drifted out of the harbour.
She waved, but she didn’t say anything. I guess she was crying.
4
Paradise Palms looked if anything nicer by night than by day. I could see the lighted dome of the Casino in the distance as I steered the boat towards the wharf. I wondered if there would be a reception committee with shot-guns waiting for me when I landed.
It was just after ten thirty, and the wharf, as far as I could see from this distance, was deserted. I cut the engine, put the Thompson where I could get at it, and drifted in.
When I was within twenty yards of the wharf, I saw a short fat figure rise up out of the shadows and walk to the edge of the wharf. I recognized Tim Duval.
He caught the rope I threw to him and made fast.