Chapter SevenHusband Copes With Prowlers
Sometime during the night, Tim was awakened by Sybil shaking his shoulder. She was sitting up in bed. “Tim,” she was saying, “Tim, there’s somebody down on the beach.”
“Huh, whuzzit?”
“I just saw a light moving down on the beach.”
Tim sat up sleepily beside her and focused his eyes on the window. It was a big window and the moonlight, fading and brightening as patches of cloud streamed across the sky, filled the bedroom that Mr. Whittlebait had apparently chosen for them. At least, he had made up the four-poster bed across which the pale light was now drifting.
“Don’ see ’nything,” said Tim.
“It was there a second ago. It just went out.”
Tim’s eyes began to function more normally. He could see the shadowy dunes now and beyond them the gleamin
