“Remember,” said Wally sharply, turning from the window, “as soon as your match is lit, duck, and crawl away. That old wood will flare wildly directly it’s lit, if it’s soaked in petrol. Don’t wait a second.”
“I won’t,” said Norah, and nodded at him cheerfully. “Don’t worry; I’ll be all right.”
“All right! I think it’s awful to let you do it!” Wally uttered.
“Wally, I’ve got to. Don’t you see I have?” Norah put her hand on his arm.
“Yes, I suppose I do,” he said. “All our lives put together don’t matter twopence if we can put an end to even one submarine. I know we must let you. But I wish to goodness we’d left you in Australia!”
“Wally!” Norah flushed scarlet.
“I say . . . I didn’t mean to be a beast,” the boy said, contritely. “Only—I just can’t stand it!” He went out, his swift strides echoing down the corridor.
“Don’t mind him, little chap: he’s only worried about you,” Jim said, gently. “He’ll be all right when he comes back.”
“At any rate, we mustn’t have you bothered,” Sir John said, patting Norah’s shoulder. “You’ll need to be quite calm and cool for your job, and for getting away quietly after it. And I really don’t believe you’ll be in any danger; the Germans can’t possibly rake that point with gunfire from the submarine. They might hit a standing figure, but not one lying flat. And I hope the men on shore will be too busy to take interest in beacons.” There was a grim note in his voice, but his face was extraordinarily happy.
“The more I think of it,” Jim said, “the more likely it seems that we’re here just in time. You see, they can’t get into the cave except at low tide; and of course they want darkness. But there’s very little darkness just now; it’s twilight until nearly ten o’clock, and then dawn comes not long after three, or even earlier. The tide is out just before dawn: the very best time for them to work. In a few days it would not suit them nearly so well.”