We had a small collapsible Berthon boat on board, just big enough to hold four at a pinch.  I watched Savaroff getting it ready, wondering grimly whether there was any chance of their leaving me on the launch with only one member of the party as a companion.  It would have suited me excellently, though it might have been a little inconvenient for my prospective guardian.

McMurtrie, however, promptly shattered this agreeable possibility by inviting me to take a seat in the boat.  I think he believed I had told him the truth, but he evidently had no intention of letting me out of his sight again until I had actually handed him over the secret of the powder.

We landed at the foot of a little winding path, and dragged our boat out of the water on to a narrow strip of shingle.  Then we set off up the cliff at a rapid pace, with von Bruenig leading the way and Savaroff bringing up the rear.

The bungalow was situated about a couple of hundred yards from the summit, almost hidden by the high privet hedge which I had noticed from the sea.  This hedge ran right round the garden, the only entrance being a small white gate in front of the house.  Von Bruenig walked up, the path followed by the rest of us, and thrusting his key into the lock pushed open the door.

We found ourselves in a fairly big, low-ceilinged apartment, lighted by a couple of French windows opening on to the side garden.  They were partly covered by two long curtains, each drawn half way across.  The place was comfortably furnished, and an easel with a half-finished seascape on it bore eloquent witness to the purity of its tenants’ motives.

Von Bruenig looked round with a sort of impatient surprise.

“Where are the others?” he demanded harshly.  “Why have they left the place empty in this way?”

“They must have walked over to the post-office,” said McMurtrie.  “I know Hoffman wanted to send a telegram.  They will be back in a minute, I expect.”

Von Bruenig frowned.  “They ought not to have done so.  Seeker at least should have known better.  After the other night—­” He paused, and crossing the room threw open a door and disappeared into an adjoining apartment.

Without waiting for an invitation, I seated myself on a low couch in the farther corner of the room.  I felt quite cool, but I must admit that the situation was beginning to strike me as a little unpromising.  Unless Latimer turned up precious soon it seemed highly probable that he would be too late.  Considering the importance of getting me safely to Germany, neither von Bruenig nor McMurtrie was likely to stay a minute longer than was necessary.  I might, of course, refuse to go with them, but in that case the odds were that I should simply be overpowered and taken on board by force.  Von Bruenig himself looked a pretty tough handful to tackle, while Savaroff was about as powerful as a well-grown bullock.  Once I was safe in the former’s “country house” they would no doubt reckon on finding some means of bringing me quickly to reason.