he was contentedly smoking a cigarette. She could even smell the tobacco smoke, mingled with the heavy odour of a decaying shipment of bananas that rotted farther out along the pier-edge.
She could hear low voices, now and then, speaking cautiously in Spanish, as two bare-footed soldiers padded past the swinging lantern, in through the door. They carried a heavy box that reminded her of a baby's coffin; and as they came out again two others passed them on their way in.
Then she felt McKinnon touch her arm, warningly, and heard his quick whisper for her to be ready. She could also hear the slow tread of the sentry's feet behind her, to the north of the shielding life-boat.
"Now's our chance," McKinnon was saying in her ear. He dropped silently over the deck-edge. She could just make out the white patch of his face as he stood there waiting to lift her down.
She knew no emotion, beyond a vague and persistent anxiety, as she felt his arms clasp her surrendering body. The moment's intimate contact brought her neither joy nor repugnance. She only knew that McKinnon was leading her by the hand to the far end of the shed that faced the west. Then he took away his hand, and
