"Can I use my torch," Julian enquired, "and what am I to look out
for?"

"Heaven knows," replied Furley, "except that there's a general
suggestion of communications between some person on land and some
person approaching from the sea. I don't mind confessing that
I've done this job, on and off, whenever I've been down here, for
a couple of years, and I've never seen or heard a suspicious thing
yet. We are never told a word in our instructions, either, or
given any advice. However, what I should do would be to lie flat
down on the top of that bank and listen. If you hear anything
peculiar, then you must use your discretion about the torch. It's
a nasty job to make over to a pal, Julian, but I know you're keen
on anything that looks like an adventure."

"All over it," was the ready reply. "What about leaving you
alone, though, Miles?"

"You put the whisky and soda where I can get at it," Furley
directed, "and I shall be all right. I'm feeling stronger every
moment. I expect your sea boots are in the scullery. And hurry
up, there's a good fellow. We're twenty minutes behind time, as
it is."

Julian started on his adventure without any particular enthusiasm.
He found the crossing, returned along the side of the bank,
trudged along the cart track until he arrived at the gate, and
climbed up on the dyke without misadventure. From here he made
his way more cautiously, using his stick with his right hand, his