Chapter 14. The Ways of the Pink–Foot
They had travelled a quarter of a mile before Peter John spoke. ‘How did you manage that?’ he asked excitedly.
Anna slackened pace and dropped into line with him.
‘I didn’t. It was the man — the one with the funny eyebrows — the one the Skipper called Martin or some name like that.’
Peter John emitted a groan of dismay.
‘But he’s Martel — the worst of them — my father told me. It’s a plot, Anna. He didn’t mean any good to us.’
‘He’s let us escape, anyway, and that’s the good I want. I had dropped off to sleep on that beastly couch when he woke me up, and said I’d better be off, for this was no place for kids. He made me follow him up on deck, keeping in the shadow so that we shouldn’t be seen. There was no one about anyhow, and not a light except
