Gwilier checked his pack for the last time and threw it on the bed, then he paced once again across the room and stood staring out of the window. They were in the residential quarters of the site camp, ostensibly for a single day’s hunting the next day. The great arch of the bridge was clearly visible in the Straits.
“What’s the matter d**k?” asked Phillip. “You’re wearing the carpet out. It’s not dangerous what we’re doing, is it?”
Gwilier half turned towards him. “No,” he said offhandedly. “Nothing we can’t handle. The travelling will be the hard bit. I was just having a last look at the bridge.”
Then he swore inwardly.
“A last look,” said Phillip, catching the slip immediately. “What the hell’s in that envelope, d**k?”
Gwilier looked at him. “If your father had wanted you to know,
