had been silly and priggish, but no more - I would have taken my
oath on it. Yet here was one of them engaged in black treason
against his native land. Something began to beat in my temples
when I remembered that Mary and this man had been friends, that
he had held her hand, and called her by her Christian name. My
first impulse was to wait till he got up and then pitch him down
among the boulders and let his German accomplices puzzle over his
broken neck.

With difficulty I kept down that tide of fury. I had my duty to
do, and to keep on terms with this man was part of it. I had to
convince him that I was an accomplice, and that might not be easy.
I leaned over the edge, and, as he got to his feet on the ledge above
the boiler-plates, I whistled so that he turned his face to me.
'Hullo, Wake,'I said.

He started, stared for a second, and recognized me. He did not
seem over-pleased to see me.

'Brand!' he cried. 'How did you get here?'

He swung himself up beside me, straightened his back and
unbuckled his knapsack. 'I thought this was my own private sanctuary,
and that nobody knew it but me. Have you spotted the cave?
It's the best bedroom in Skye.' His tone was, as usual, rather acid.

That little hammer was beating in my head. I longed to get my
hands on his throat and choke the smug treason in him. But I kept
my mind fixed on one purpose - to persuade him that I shared his
secret and was on his side. His off-hand self-possession seemed only