'How much do you know, and what do you mean?' were the questions that
throbbed in my thoughts; but I could not utter them, so I said
nothing and felt very young.

Outside we joined Davies, who was knitting his brow over prospects.

'It just comes of going into places like this,' he said to me. 'We
may be stuck here for days. Too much wind to tow out with the dinghy,
and too narrow a channel to beat in.'

Von Brüning was ready with a new proposal.

'Why didn't I think of it before?' he said. 'I'll tow you out in my
launch. Be ready at 6.30; we shall have water enough then. My men
will send you a warp.'

It was impossible to refuse, but a sense of being personally
conducted again oppressed me; and the last hope of a bed in the inn
vanished. Davies was none too effusive either. A tug meant a pilot,
and he had had enough of them.

'He objects to towage on principle,' I said.

'Just like him!' laughed the other. 'That's settled, then!' A dogcart
was standing before the inn door in readiness for von Brüning. I was
curious about Esens and his business there. Esens, he said, was the
principal town of the district, four miles inland.

'I have to go there,' he volunteered, 'about a poaching case--a