“Then that explains—”
“What?” Norma asked.
“Oh! A lot of things.”
Norma’s mind was too busy to carry this thought through for, as they wandered over the island, she felt like a general looking over a battlefield where the enemy might attack on the morrow. She noted low spots among the rocks where men might land from a plane or a rubber boat, tried to find the marks of high tide and studied with great care the narrow beach beside the harbor.
Why was she doing all this? Perhaps she could not have told herself. She just did, that was all.
After a delicious lunch served at the small hotel that had been made a barracks, they prepared for the return trip.
Again Rosa took the controls and once more she made a perfect take-off.
It was growing dusk now and, as they circled above the island, Norma turned on the spotlight allowing it to play upon the dark clusters of pines, the gray rocks and the cottage roofs. She was astonished to see how clearly everything stood out.
“An enemy plane could bomb it to bits,” she said.
“Sure, but why?” Tom asked.