We must get across before he can get round."

"How far across?"

"Less than twenty miles.... There soon after midnight.... Steal a boat if
necessary."

We settled down into a steady walk and got our wind back, and my spirits
rose, and hope showed head once more. If we could get across to Sercq
before Torode could lay us by the heels, we would be safe among our own
folks, and, unless I was very much mistaken, he would no more than visit
Herm and away before I could raise Peter Port against him.

Neither of us had travelled that land before, but we knew the direction we
had to take, and the stars kept us to our course.

We pressed on without a halt, for every moment was of importance, and for
the most part we went in silence. For myself, I was already, in my
thoughts, clasping my mother and Carette in my arms once more, and then
speeding across to Peter Port to rouse them there with the news of Torode's
murderous treachery.

Le Marchant was the more practical man of the two. As we passed some
windmills, and came swinging down towards the western coast, soon after
midnight, he gave a cheerful "Hourra!" and in reply to my stare, cried,
"The wind, man! It's as dead as St. Magloire. Monsieur Torode will never
get round La Hague like this."

"It will come again with the sun, maybe," I said.