The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. McClintock, without comment, accepted the hand. He handed her a cheque for thirty-one pounds, ten shillings, and read the agreement through to her. ” He said. “There is my aunt,” she said. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. Sebastian dug through the viscous layers of foul-smelling clay with a shovel, each successive insertion creating an obscene sucking noise that ate at her sanity. “All these days I have taken her for you. ‘But on the off chance—slim, I grant you —that there is a spy down there, I don’t want to miss the fun. ” He dropped his eye-glass with a clatter.
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