Suddenly Rodwell shouted for Ted; but the woman, passing into the living-room, calling for young Small, and receiving no reply, remarked: “I believe they both went out down on the beach, to the boat, a moment ago. Do you want him?”
“Only to tell him to get some breakfast. You must be fagged out after your journey,” he said, still working the cable without a pause. “How cold and draughty this house is!” he said. “I shall be glad when night comes again, and we can get away. I mean to give this place a rest for a month. I’m afraid it’s getting just a bit unhealthy for me. Come in, and shut the door, Molly. I’m nearly blown out, with that door open,” he complained.
Then, after she had re-entered the room and closed the door, he soon gave the signal “end of message,” and paused for the acknowledgment.
It came without delay. A few rapid clicks, and then all was still again—a silence save for the howl of the wind and the monotonous roar of the great breakers rolling in upon the beach outside.
“Well, Molly,” the man said, as he lit a cigarette, and seated himself on the edge of the little old-fashioned bed, “we’ll have to stay in here, I suppose, till it’s dark. Small doesn’t like it known that he has visitors. What time did you order Penney?”
“I told him to be at the place where he usually drops you at eight o’clock.”
“Excellent. I wonder where Ted is? I want my breakfast badly.”
“He said something about going down to the boat to get some fish for you.”
“Ah! of course. They went out in the night. I forgot,” he said.
Then, after a pause, the woman exclaimed—