Anthony Barraclough looked round him desperately, then he spoke very fast.
"If I tell you you'll do nothing—say nothing till eleven o'clock this day three weeks?"
"I promise."
The words that followed rattled out like a hail of shrapnel.
"Brewster's Series nineteen. Map twenty-four. Square F. North twenty-seven. West thirty-three."
"I'll write it down."
"No, no, you won't," he cried. "I've fulfilled my part of the bargain and you've forgotten it already."
She fixed him with her clear blue eyes, square lidded and earnest.
"Brewster's Series nineteen. Map twenty-four. Square F. North twenty-seven. West thirty-three," she said.
He looked at her in sheer amazement.