The night wore on. Every now and again the man rose, climbed a sand-hill, and stood listening, returning each time to his vigil by the fire. At length he leaned forward and held the face of his watch near the fire-glow. Apparently the time had come for action of some sort, for he rose and made off into the darkness. When he reappeared he carried a tin pannikin in his hand, and stood motionless by the fire, staring out to sea. Ten minutes he waited; then, suddenly, he made an inaudible observation. A light appeared out of the darkness beyond the headland, winked twice, and vanished. The tinker approached his fire and swilled something from his pannikin on to the glowing embers. A flame shot up about three feet, and died down, flickering. The tin contained paraffin, and three times the tinker repeated the strange rite. Then he sat down and waited. A quarter of an hour passed before something grated on the shingle of the beach, scarcely perceptible above the lap of the waves. The tinker rose to his feet, shovelled the sand over the embers of his fire, and descended the little path to the beach. The night was inky dark, and for a moment he paused irresolute. Then a dark form appeared against the faintly luminous foam, wading knee deep and dragging the bows of a small skiff towards the shore. The tinker gave a low whistle, and the wader paused. "_Fritz!_" he said guardedly. "_Ja! Hier!_" replied the tinker, advancing. "_Gott sei dank!_" said the other. He left the boat and waded ashore. The two men shook hands. "Where's the cart?" asked the low voice in German. "Among the sand-hills. You will want assistance. Have you more than one with you in the boat?" "Yes." The new-comer turned and gave a brusque order. Another figure waded ashore and joined the two men, a tall, bearded fellow in duffel overalls. As his feet reached the sand he spat ostentatiously. The tinker led the way to the cart. "It is dark," said the first man from the sea. "How many cans have you got?" "Forty-eight. I could get no more without exciting suspicion. They have requisitioned one of my cars as it is." The other gave a low laugh. "What irony! Well, that will last till Friday. But you must try and get more then. I will be here at the same time; no, the tide will not suit--at 8 a.m. We can come inside then. Did you remember the cigarettes?" "Yes." The tinker climbed into the cart and handed a petrol tin down to the speaker. "_Ein!_" he said. "Count them," and lifted out another. "_Zwei!_" The third man, who had not hitherto spoken, received them with a grunt, and set off down to the boat with his burden. Eight times the trio made the journey to and from the beach. Three times they waited while the tiny collapsible boat ferried its cargo out to where, in the darkness, a long, black shadow lay, with the water lapping round it, like a partly submerged whale. The last time the tinker remained alone on the beach.