It was fine sunset that evening. When we presently came round and stood in towards shore I got a feast of color over Romney Marsh. Watching the ever-changing colors as the night crept out of the sea, I remembered that Quarles was interested in Romney Marsh, in a lonely house there about which he had had no time to tell me last night; had this lonely house an interest for me? I tried to work out the plot in a dozen ways, endeavoring to understand how the thieves could secure themselves if I were allowed to live.
That gorgeous sunset was depressing. The coming night might be so full of ominous meaning for me.
It was dark by the time we drew in towards the shore. A light or two marked Dymchurch to our left, to our right were the lights of Hythe.
By what landmark the skipper chose his position I do not know, but presently the anchor was let go and we swung round. The tide must have been nearly at the full. A few minutes later the dinghy was got into the water, and the steps let down.
Everything was accomplished as neatly and deliberately as I had seen it done each time I had gone sailing in the yacht.
Then the skipper came over to me and tried my bonds to make sure I had not worked them loose under cover of the darkness.
"All right," he said. "You can get her up."
Evidently they were going to take Mrs. Selborne ashore.
She came up on deck, she was not brought up. She was not bound in any way.
"Half past ten," said the skipper. "Sure you will be all right alone?"