“As for tonight, I expect they’ll confine us in the crews’ quarters to sleep. If we’re going to act, it needs to be soon.”

Otherwise they’d be locked in overnight, and only released once the enemy were fresh and rested. Will nodded, and finished off the final sandwich, washing it down with the last of the water.

“I want to see Maisie now,” he called to Knowle. “And a proper rest before I do any more shovelling.”

Knowle glanced at his wristwatch. It had a broad strap: Will wondered if he had a tattoo under there. “You can have half an hour in the ladies’ cabin. It will be guarded.”

Will walked, wincing and stiff-legged, towards the back of the yacht. There was another hatch behind the cabin, with a spiral stair that led down to a tiny space with a door. Chingford went down first; Knowle stood a safe distance away, providing cover.

Chingford unlocked the door. “In. Don’t try anything. I’ll be listening.”

The ladies’ cabin was like the other stateroom, but smaller. It was fancily decorated, but the air was rather close in here, with a sour tang, and the thud of the engines was almost as noisy as in the engine room. Panels on one wall had been pulled back to reveal a pair of bunkbeds. Maisie was lying on the lower one; Phoebe sat on a chair next to her, holding her hand. She leapt up as they came in. “Darlings!”

“We’re here for a rest,” Kim said. “Will’s been working like a navvy. He’s exhausted.”

“Knackered,” Will agreed, for the benefit of the eavesdropper, and extracted the reason for his awkward posture from where it was stuffed into the waistband of his trousers. A hefty spanner: he’d seen it on the engine room floor and grabbed it when Anton fled.

Kim mouthed I love you, held up a finger enjoining silence, and started opening drawers. He seemed to be looking for something. “Phoebe, do help him.”

Phoebe blinked. “Yes, of course you must sit down at once, how utterly dreadful. Poor Will. Kim, darling, what’s happening?”

“Are you both all right?”

“Well, I am,” Phoebe said. “Maisie is foully seasick. She ought to be on deck in the fresh air but that utter pig Knowle wouldn’t let us up. We called out and he came in here and it was rather awful.”

Kim looked round at that. Will said, “What did he do?”

“It was horrible,” Maisie said from the bunk. Her voice was thick and a bit raspy. “He was talking about how we were on our own and there was no Lord Waring, or you, to protect us this time. Phoebe told him to get out, and he wouldn’t. He kept saying things.”