“Is there no possibility of getting away from here before night? I don’t like the black looks which Small and his son gave me, Lewin.”
“Black looks! Oh, that’s nothing. I’m always putting the screw on them. Besides, Ted got to know from Stendel—who chatted to him over the wire one day—all about the Scarborough raid. So, naturally, he’s antagonistic.”
“But he might betray us, you know.”
“He’ll never do that, depend upon it. He knows that his own neck would be in danger if he did so. So rest quite assured about that.” Then, after a few moments’ silence, he added: “I wonder when we shall get that young Sainsbury out of the way. He’s the greatest source of danger that we have.”
“I thought your idea was that nobody would believe him, whatever he alleged against you?” asked the woman.
“That’s so. But we have now to count with Trustram. If he wilfully deceived me regarding those two transports leaving Plymouth, then he certainly suspects. And if he suspects, his suspicions may lead him in the direction of Sainsbury—see?”
“Yes. I quite see. You scent a further danger!”
“No, not exactly,” was his vague reply, an evil smile upon his lips. “With the exercise of due precaution we need have nothing to fear—as long as Sainsbury’s mouth is closed by the law—as it must be in a day or two.”
“But you don’t mean to come down here again for some time, do you?”
“No. For the next week or two we must trust to other channels of transmission—Schuette’s wireless at Sydenham, perhaps, though that’s far from satisfactory.”