"Funny!" cried his visitor. "Remember that you're paid to see that she doesn't think it funny. Have her back here, say next Tuesday, for a couple of days, and then send her off on a visit down to Bristol. You and Ted are able to rub along together very well without her." "Well--we feels the miss o' the girl," replied the old fellow, who, though honest and loyal, had fallen hopelessly into the trap which German double-dealing had prepared for him. "Of course you do. I should--were I in your place," was Rodwell's response. "But the confidential business in which you and I are engaged just now is not one in which a woman has any concern. She's out of place here; and, moreover, few women can keep a still tongue. Just reflect a moment. Suppose she told some friend of hers what was in progress under your roof? Well, the police would soon be out here to investigate, and you'd both find yourselves under arrest. No," he added. "Keep your girl away from here--keep her away at all costs. That's my advice." "Very well, sir, I will," replied the wrinkled old fellow, rubbing the knees of his stained trousers with his hands, and drawing at his rather foul pipe. "I quite see your point. I'll get the girl away to Bristol this week." "Oh! and there's another thing. I'd better remain in here all day to-day, for I don't want to be seen wandering about by anybody. They might suspect something. So if anyone happens to come in, mind they have no suspicion of my being here." "All right, sir. Leave that to me." "To-night, about ten or eleven, I'm expecting a lady down from London. She's bringing me some important news. So you'd better get something or other for her to eat." "A bit o' nice fish, perhaps?" the old fellow suggested as a luxury. "Well--something that she can eat, you know." "I'll boil two or three nice fresh crabs. The lady may like 'em, if I dress 'em nice." "Excellent!" laughed Rodwell. Truly his was a strange life. One day he ate a perfectly-cooked dinner in Bruton Street, and the next he enjoyed fat bacon cooked by a fisherman in his cottage. Old Tom, glancing through the window out upon the grey, misty sea, remarked: "Hulloa! There's that patrol a-comin' back. For two days they've been up and down from the Spurn to the Wash. Old Fred Turner, on the _Seamew_, what's a minesweeper nowadays, hailed me last night when we were baitin' our pots. He got three mines yesterday. Those devils have sown death haphazard!" "Devils!" echoed Rodwell, in a reproachful tone. "The Germans are only devils because we are out to win." "I'm sorry, sir," exclaimed the old fellow, biting his lip. "I didn't think when I spoke." "But, Tom, you should never speak before you think. It lands you into trouble always," his visitor said severely.