He emerged into a depression in a waste of shingle sheltered by a high bank which shut off the sea. Stooping low he clambered up the bank, and laying on his stomach scrutinised the surroundings. A couple of hundred yards away the sea lapped monotonously on a lonely shore. Far out at sea there were one or two ships obviously on their lawful occasions. Nearer in there was a fleet of fishing boats. On the dim horizon something that had been at first obscured by the sail of one of the smacks came into Larry's angle of vision. He uttered a low curse as he recognised the silhouette of a destroyer. If Labar had been speaking the truth in that particular he might have done so in others. His gaze swung to the beach. Far as he could see that was open. There was no sign of the motor boat of which Labar had spoken. In point of fact, although Larry could not know, it was labouring on the other side of Dungeness with engine trouble. But the beach itself was deserted. Billy Bungey had crawled up beside him and pointed out the destroyer. "I know," said Larry petulantly. "God, I've got eyes, haven't I?" He turned over to scan the marshes. In the distance he could see "Mope's Bottom," but around it and as far as he could see there was no sign of life. "Not a soul, Billy," he observed. "All the same I don't like it. It is early yet and if Labar wasn't bluffing we'll be in a hole--in every sense." "We could take a chance and bolt for it now," said the other. "No use waiting till it's too late." The eyes of the two men met. There was a significance in Billy Bungey's words that Larry did not fail to appreciate. He remained silent and thoughtful, and the rougher scoundrel slid back to the trap-door. "You there, Tom?" he asked. "Get back to the boys, will you? It looks reasonably clear here, but the boss and I are going to take a bit of a look round. We'll be along presently." He came back to where Larry was lying on the shingle. "That's got rid of him. There might be a chance for two of us. There wouldn't be any for a crowd. What do you say?" For once in his life Larry Hughes was irresolute. In his career there were few codes that he had not broken. But always he had made it a practice to keep faith with those who had come under his sway. He could say, outlaw though he was, that he had never betrayed a friend nor forgiven an enemy. It was a rigid part of his policy to enforce honour among thieves to himself as to his associates. He could neither afford to forgive a man who had let him down nor to abandon those who had worked with him. That was the reason for the strength that he had acquired in the underworld. Once that policy was abandoned the prestige that had been so profitable to him would be gone.