Part 42 (1/2)

I was so engrossed in this feat of navigation that I took no notice of anything else, until a voice from the bank abruptly attracted my attention. I looked up with a start, nearly running myself aground, and there on the bank I saw a gesticulating figure, which I immediately recognized as that of Tommy. I shouted a greeting back, and swinging the _Betty_ round, brought up in almost the identical place where we had anch.o.r.ed on the previous night.

Tommy, who had hurried down to the edge of the water, gave me a second hail.

”Buck up, old son!” he called out. ”There's something doing.”

A suggestion of haste from Tommy argued a crisis of such urgency that I didn't waste any time asking questions. I just threw over the anchor, and tumbling into the dinghy sculled ash.o.r.e as quickly as I could.

”Sorry I kept you waiting, Tommy,” I said, as he jumped into the boat.

”Been here long?”

”About three hours,” he returned. ”I was beginning to wonder if you were dead.”

I shook my head. ”I'm not fit to die yet,” I replied. ”What's the matter?”

He looked at his watch. ”Well, the chief matter is the time. Do you think I can get to Sheppey by half-past nine?”

I paused in my rowing. ”Sheppey!” I repeated. ”Why d.a.m.n it, Tommy, I've just come back from Sheppey.”

It was Tommy's turn to look surprised. ”The devil you have!” he exclaimed. ”What took you there?”

”To be exact,” I said, ”it was the _Betty_”; and then in as few words as possible I proceeded to acquaint him with the morning's doings. I was just finis.h.i.+ng as we came alongside.

”Well, that's fine about the powder,” he said, scrambling on board.

”Where's Gow?”

”Joyce sent him off for a holiday,” I answered, ”and he hasn't come back yet.” Then hitching up the dinghy I added curiously: ”What's up, Tommy? Let's have it.”

”It's Latimer,” he said. ”I told you I was expecting to hear from him.

He sent me a message round early this morning, and I've promised him I'll be in the creek under the German's bungalow by half-past nine. I must get there somehow.”

”Oh, we'll get there all right,” I returned cheerfully, ”What's the game?”

”I think he's having a squint round,” said Tommy. ”Anyhow I know he's there on his own and depending on me to pick him up.”

”But what made him ask you?” I demanded.

”He knew I had a boat, and I fancy he's working this particular racket without any official help. As far as I can make out, he wants to be quite certain what these fellows are up to before he strikes. You don't get much sympathy in the Secret Service if you happen to make a mistake.”

”Well, it's no good wasting time talking,” I said. ”If we want to be there by half-past nine we must push off at once.”

”But what about you?” exclaimed Tommy. ”You can't come! He's seen you, you know, at the hut.”

”What does it matter?” I objected. ”If he didn't recognize me as the chap who sent him the note at Parelli's, we can easily fake up some explanation. Tell him I'm a new member of the Athenians, and that you happened to run across me and brought me down to help work the boat.

There's no reason one shouldn't be a yachtsman and a photographer too.”

I spoke lightly, but as a matter of fact I was some way from trusting Tommy's judgment implicitly with regard to Latimer's straightforwardness about the restaurant incident, and also about his visit to the hut. All the same, I was quite determined to go to Sheppey. Things had come to a point now when there was nothing to be gained by over-caution. Either Latimer had recognized me or else he hadn't. In the first event, he knew already that Tommy had been trying to deceive him, and that the mythical artist person was none other than myself. If that were so, I felt it was best to take the bull by the horns, and try to find out exactly what part he suspected me of playing. I had at least saved his life, and although we live in an ungrateful world, he seemed bound to be more or less prejudiced in my favour.