"Neither can I, but the girl said Penny had important news for us."

"Of course she'd say that. I don't believe a word of it, but I'm puzzled to know how those kids were persuaded to go to the bungalow. Slinky took them to Hastings, didn't he? And your mother said it was Slinky's idea? Looks a bit odd, doesn't it, Jon? I think we'd better go. What did the girl suggest?"

"She telephoned from Winchelsea and says she'll pick us up in the car on the road. It may be a trap, but I'm going. I don't like the idea of Penny and the twins in that foul bungalow. I hated it when we went... but I'm not going to take any papers."

"All right. It's after tea-time and Slinky isn't back, so I should think the story is true and that they really are at Beach View. My parents will be back soon, too, I should think, and I'd like the twins to be home before they arrive. The weather is getting worse. Let's get our macs."

"I don't think I want to see my mother," Jon said. "She'll wonder what all the fuss is about and it will only waste time if we begin to explain. Just wait a sec. while I scribble a note to drop in her letter-box over the way."

They stumbled down Trader's Passage to the river and stood for a moment to recover their breath, looking at the muddy water swirling under the bridge. Two men were talking in the lee of one of the tarred drying-sheds, and one glanced up and saw the boys. It was Vasson, and he strolled over to speak to them.

"Where be you two going on a day like this? It'll be worse afore long, you know, and it's not much fun walking about in this."

"Is there any more news, Mr. Vasson?" David asked. "I mean about the lifeboats standing by."

"Not as I knows on, but chaps down at harbour all be ready. You be going down that way?"

"No, we've got to go down to Winchelsea beach to a bungalow belonging to somebody we know. Penny and the twins are there to tea."

Vasson pursed his lips for a whistle of surprise that was blown away in the gale.

"But you lads'll never get out there tonight. That beach is no place to be. If it goes on blowing like this - and blow it will till tide is full tonight - them folks in those liddle houses and shacks'll have to clear out, I'm thinking. Tide's turned, but she'll not be full till after dark, and they're real worried for the great bank, I hear tell."

"It's worse down there, is it, Mr. Vasson? Do they really think something like that will happen?"