"I am, sir. Never got into trouble before this. I've been led into it, sir, honest, I have."
"Honest you haven't," corrected Tressidar sternly. "Now, listen, you know the penalty—death.
"What, for harbouring a German prisoner, sir?" asked the man.
"No—for supplying hostile vessels with petrol. You have hundreds of gallons stored here, and I'll swear you cannot satisfactorily account for that quantity. Moreover, you were heard to say that a submarine was expected about three or four in the morning. Now, look here, what are the prearranged signals?"
"Curse you!—find out," muttered the man surlily.
"I mean to," rejoined the sub. suavely. "Let me put the facts before you. You're caught red-handed. There are no extenuating circumstances. You are deliberately betraying your country for the sake of a few hundred pounds, I suppose. If you give us all the assistance that lies in your power, that fact will be taken into consideration at your trial. I'll vouch for that. Now, I'll give you five minutes to think things over."
Leaving the prisoner in charge of a couple of seamen, the sub. approached the seaward entrance. Drawing his binoculars from their case, he focussed them on the water of the bay. The tide was now on the first of the ebb, with perhaps six feet of water close to the base of the cliffs.
By the aid of the powerful night-glasses he could just discern the grey forms of the "Pompey's" two boats. The first lieutenant had lost no time in proceeding to the spot, for his preparations were already complete, and the boats were even now withdrawing to a discreet distance to await developments.
With a grunt of satisfaction Tressidar replaced his binoculars and again confronted his prisoner.
"Time's up!" he exclaimed laconically.