“They should be in about eleven, at this rate,” she reckoned. “You’d better go home and slip on a bathing costume. And do you happen to have any firearms about the place?”
“I believe Uncle Hans stocks one.”
She smiled, and took the automatic from her pocket.
“He doesn’t now—Simon relieved him of it last night.”
“Perhaps he’s got another. I’ve an idea there used to be quite an armoury. I’ll do my best.”
“How long will it take you?”
He thought.
“I’ll be back at eleven.”
“Don’t be later,” she ordered. “It’d make it a longer swim if we went from the quay, but the tide’s only just turned, so we can’t get along the beach. We’ll have to go over the cliff here—could you find enough strong rope?”
“I’ll knock up a bloke in the village. He’s got miles and miles of it—sells it to the stout mariners, y’know.”