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Updated: May 15, 2025
There is a sort of impression out there that you've brought them bad luck." Granet shrugged his shoulders. "Well," he said, "they know their own business best. What I am afraid of is being saddled with some rotten home duty." "You need not be afraid of that any more, Ronnie," his uncle told him calmly. Granet turned quickly around.
"It is capable of sixty miles an hour," Granet declared. "Perhaps I may spare you the trouble," Thomson proceeded drily, "of further explanations, Captain Granet, when I tell you that your car was observed by one of the sentries quite a quarter of an hour before the arrival of the Zeppelins and the lighting of that flare.
It is not my desire that you should suffer unduly for your humane visit here, but I might remind you that under the circumstances it is a little compromising. No, don't interrupt me! We understand one another, I am quite sure." Granet had taken a step backwards. His face for a moment was blanched, his lips opened but closed again without speech. Thomson was watching him closely.
Then came another roar. The sand flew up in a blinding storm, the whole of the creek was suddenly a raging torrent. The boat was swung on a precipitous mountain of salt water and as quickly capsized. Granet, breathless for a moment and half stunned, found his way somehow to the side of the marshland, and from there stumbled his way towards the road.
His manners and his speech were alike reserved, his air of breeding was apparent, but he had not the natural ease or charm which was making Granet, even in those few minutes, persona grata with Geraldine's mother and a little circle of newly-arrived guests. "At least I appreciate your point of view," Major Thomson admitted, with a faint sigh. "Don't be such a dear old stick," Geraldine laughed.
"We're not taking it sitting down, I can tell you." The Admiral rose and pushed back his chair. "I think," he said, "if you are quite sure, all of you, that you will take no more port, we should join the ladies." They trooped out of the room together. Thomson kept close behind Ralph Conyers and Captain Granet, who were talking no more of submarines, however, but of the last ballet at the Empire.
We're not on a battleship, you know. You will find my quarters a little cramped, I'm afraid." They drank cocktails cheerfully, and afterwards Geraldine exclaimed, taking a long breath. "If Olive weren't so fearfully in love, she'd be suffocated." Granet paused and looked before him with a puzzled frown. "What in heaven's name is this?"
Captain Chalmers, is it not?" he went on. "You must tell your men to double and redouble their energies. This place is worth watching now. Come, I will show you something amazing." He turned and led them hastily towards the back door. Isabel gripped Granet's arm. "He thinks you are the officer in command of the platoon here," she whispered. "Better let him go on thinking so." Granet nodded.
"I have obeyed your wishes, Sir Alfred," he announced, as they seated themselves. "No one else will be dining anywhere near you." Sir Alfred nodded. "Knowing how modest you soldiers are in talking of your exploits," he remarked to Granet, "I have pleaded for seclusion. Here, in the intervals of our being served with dinner, you can spin me yarns of the Front. The whole thing fascinates me.
Granet swung the car around into the archway of a hotel exactly opposite the dock. "All right," he agreed. "We'll leave the car here. Of course, I'd like to come all right." They crossed the cobbled street and made their way to the dock. The pinnace was waiting for them and in a very few minutes they were on their way across the harbour.
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