"So yer here still, messin' about! Wonder yer not tired of it," he said.
"I am," said Carl. "Dead tired of it! Nothing can be done here. My belief is he's dead."
"And mine too; he couldn't have stood it all this time, wandering about the moor," Brack said.
When they were out in the bay she asked:
"Who is dead? What were you talking about?"
"It's a long story, mum, a sad story; I don't suppose it would interest you."
"Who was that man on the quay?" she asked.
"He's from Dartmoor, from the prison," said Brack.
He did not see the look of interest on her face as he spoke.
"A warder?" she asked.