“What are you two talking about?” said Tegg, who seemed to be dozing, too.
“Culana,” Portson answered as he lit a cigarette.
“Yes, that was rather a pity. But.... What about this Newt of ours?”
“I took her over from Jarrott next day—off Margate,” said Portson. “Jarrott wanted to get back to his mine-sweeping.”
“Every man to his taste,” said Maddingham. “That never appealed to me. Had they detailed you specially to look after the Newt?”
“Me among others,” Portson admitted. “I was going down Channel when I got my orders, and so I went on with him. Jarrott had been tremendously interested in his course up to date—specially off the Wash. He’d charted it very carefully and he said he was going back to find out what some of the kinks and curves meant. Has he found out, Tegg?”
Tegg thought for a moment. “Cordelia was all right up to six o’clock yesterday evening,” he said.
“’Glad of that. Then I did what Winchmore did. I lay behind this stout fellow and saw him well into the open.”
“Did you say anything to him?” Tegg asked.