Page:Arthur Stringer - Gun Runner.djvu/248

 "What is it?" asked the operator, nettled by the intent look on her listening face.

She made a second sign for silence. Then she took a deep breath of relief. For the first time he noticed that she was fully dressed, as though for land travel. Something about her conveyed to him the passing impression that she was as disconcertingly well-groomed as she was incongruously at ease. Her face, under the heavy upturned veil, still carried its inalienable touch of youth and vigour, for all the anxious shadow about the eyes, which scarcely betrayed the fact that she had been passing troubled and restless nights.

"I have heard every word," she explained, in her low and intimate tones.

"Then you know what a mess we've made of it!"

"I was leaning on the rail, under the bow of the life-boat," she went on, disregarding his exclamation. "I waited until Ganley passed behind the officers' quarters. He's walking up and down, smoking—and waiting."

"Did he see you come in here?" asked McKinnon, distressed at the thought that here was no hospitality and no harbour he could extend to her, feeling that this fight was his own, and his alone.