'A thousand pardons!' said von Brüning, laughing.

'Don't shake my faith in her,' I put in. 'I've got to get to England
in her.'

'Heaven forbid; I was only thinking that there must have been some
sea round the Scharhorn that day; a tame affair, no doubt, Herr
Davies?'

'Scharhorn?' said Davies, who did not catch the idiom in the latter
sentence. 'Oh, we didn't go that way. We cut through the sands--by
the Telte.'

'The Telte! In a north-west gale!' The commander started, ceased to
smile, and only stared. (It was genuine surprise; I could swear it.
He had heard nothing of this before.)

'Herr Dollmann knew the way,' said Davies, doggedly. 'He kindly
offered to pilot me through, and I wouldn't have gone otherwise.'
There was an awkward little pause.

'He led you well, it seems?' said von Brüning.

'Yes; there's a nasty surf there, though, isn't there? But it saves
six miles--and the Scharhorn. Not that I saved distance. I was fool
enough to run aground.'

'Ah!' said the other, with interest.

'It didn't matter, because I was well inside then. Those sands are