“It does, rather. I daresay she’s his aunt. It’s just the kind of thing Aunt Juliet would have done before she took to Christian Science. Now, of course, it would be against her principles. Let’s have another Californian peach to fill in the time.” Frank handed the tin to her and afterwards helped himself. “Have you drunk all your beer, Cousin Frank?” “No. Want some?” “I was only thinking,” said Priscilla, “that perhaps you’d better not. I’ve just recollected King John.” “What about him?” “It was peaches and beer that finished him off, after he’d got stuck in crossing the Wash. That’s rather the sort of position we’re in now, and I shouldn’t like anything to happen to you.” Frank, by way of demonstrating his courage, took a long draught of lager beer, then he looked across at Inishark. Priscilla’s eyes followed his. For a minute or two they gazed in silence. Jimmy Kinsella’s boat still lay on the shore. Jimmy Kinsella’s lady had taken off her shoes and stockings and rolled up the sleeves of her blouse. Her skirt was kilted high and folded over a broad band which kept it well above her knees. Jimmy Kinsella himself, who was modest as well as chivalrous, sat on a stone with his back to her and gazed at the slope of the island. The lady waded about in the shallow water. Now and then she plunged her arms in and appeared to fish something up from the bottom. Priscilla and Frank looked at each other in amazement. “I wonder what on earth’s she’s doing,” said Priscilla. “Can she possibly be taking soundings?” “No,” said Frank. “Soundings aren’t taken that way. You do it with a line and a lead from the deck of a ship.” “All the same,” said Priscilla, “she’s in league with the other spies. You saw the way they kissed each other.” “She may,” said Frank, “be taking specimens of the sea bottom. That’s a very important thing, I believe.” “It is, frightfully; but that’s not the way it’s done. There was a curious old johnny last term who gave us a lecture on hydrography--that’s what he called it--and he said you gather up small bits of the bottom by putting tallow on the end of a lump of lead. I expect he knew what he was talking about, but, of course, he may not. You never can tell about those scientific lecturers. They keep on contradicting each other so.” “If she’s not doing that, what is she doing?” “She may possibly be trying to cure her rheumatism,” said Priscilla. “They generally bathe for that; but she may not feel bad enough to go to such extremes. She looks rather fat. Fat people do have rheumatism, don’t they?” “No, gout.” “More or less the same thing,” said Priscilla. “Of course, if that’s what she’s at, she’s not a spy, and we oughtn’t to go on treating her as if she was. I don’t think it’s right to suspect people of really bad crimes unless one knows. Do you, Cousin Frank?”