A pike, with little pike following her, was to follow the flight of the birds--the dotted line on his outline map. The dotted line curved up out of Cuxhaven, around the Orkneys and Hebrides and into Lough Swilly--_where there was a fleet_!
Out of Cuxhaven--_Cuxhaven!_ where lay the German submarines!--A pike, and young! A parent ship and submarines!
The last link was forged; the chain complete--not quite--not entirely. The Japanese dancing girl? And under the number of the sketch, 3,--were three symbols. They were junks with latten sails.
Perhaps there were three Japanese battleships at Lough Swilly. It didn't matter; the chain was complete enough for him.
As he rose from the sofa, stretching his arms to ease his cramped muscles, Guild became conscious that he was very tired.
He had had little sleep the night before and none at all this night. He glanced at his watch; it was four o'clock in the morning. He went to the port, unscrewed it, and looked out into pitch darkness. There was not a light to be seen on the sea, no flare from any headland, no spark which might indicate a lighthouse, not a star overhead, not a sparkle save for the splintered reflection of the vessel's own lights running over the water alongside, through which foaming, curling waves raced and fled away into the black obscurity astern.
He turned and looked gravely at Karen. The girl still lay unstirring among the pillows on the sofa. One arm covered her head as though to shield it from some blow.
He bent beside her, listening to her breathing. It was quiet and regular, and on her cheek was a flush like the delicate colour of a sleeping child.
He had no mind to disturb her, yet he could not make her more comfortable without awaking her.
All he dared do was to unbutton her spats very cautiously, and slip off the little brown suede shoes.
Over her he laid the blankets from the bed, lightly, then opened wide the port.
His own toilet for the night was even simpler; he folded together the batch of damning papers, originals, his own notes, the forged passports, strapped them with an elastic band, buttoned them inside his breast pocket, reached over and extinguished the electric globe, and, fully dressed, lay down on the stripped bed in darkness.