“Quick⁠—back to the hut.”

Harry swept me back with him. He took down a couple of rifles and a revolver from the wall.

“Can you load a rifle?”

“I never have. Show me how.”

I grasped his instructions well enough. We closed the door and Harry stood by the window which overlooked the landing stage. The boat was just about to run alongside it.

“Who’s that?” called out Harry in a ringing voice.

Any doubt we might have had as to our visitors’ intentions was swiftly resolved. A hail of bullets splattered round us. Fortunately neither of us was hit. Harry raised the rifle. It spat murderously, and again and again. I heard two groans and a splash.

“That’s given ’em something to think about,” he muttered grimly, as he reached for the second rifle. “Stand well back, Anne, for God’s sake. And load quickly.”

More bullets. One just grazed Harry’s cheek. His answering fire was more deadly than theirs. I had the rifle reloaded when he turned for it. He caught me close with his left arm and kissed me once savagely before he turned to the window again. Suddenly he uttered a shout.

“They’re going⁠—had enough of it. They’re a good mark out there on the water, and they can’t see how many of us there are. They’re routed for the moment⁠—but they’ll come back. We’ll have to get ready for them.” He flung down the rifle and turned to me.

“Anne! You beauty! You wonder! You little queen! As brave as a lion. Black-haired witch!”

He caught me in his arms. He kissed my hair, my eyes, my mouth.

“And now to business,” he said, suddenly releasing me. “Get out those tins of paraffin.”