Jon kept to the road. Although the levels looked very tempting in the lovely light of the late afternoon sun, and although hundreds of sheep were grazing placidly between the dark dikes, it was true that there were no clearly defined tracks.

By the time he reached the hill which leads up to the Strand Gate of Winchelsea he was very tired, hot and out of breath. He was also very anxious, because it was after half-past five and he had yet to find the old mill.

The citizens of Winchelsea were enjoying the Sunday evening sunshine as he toiled under the gateway. He glanced over to the look-out from which they had looked over the levels for the first time on Friday and noticed a little group standing round a seated figure. He was wondering whom he had better ask about the windmill when, with a shock, he realized that the shape of the figure was familiar, and as it was seated on a camp stool and facing an easel, he had no doubt that the artist was Miss Ballinger. Fortunately, she did not appear to see him, so he hurried past, hoping most fervently that she would not call him back.

This was certainly rather puzzling, because it did not now seem that she was the person Slinky was going to meet - unless, of course, the windmill was very near and she could reach it easily.

He walked quickly up the street, hoping that he would not meet Slinky. At the door of the inn he asked a man if there was an old mill nearby.

Jon followed the directions and soon found that the town finished as abruptly to the north as it did to the south, although on this side the slope of the hill was more gradual. He went through a gate into an elm-fringed field, climbed a stile and found himself looking over flat country which stretched away into the blue distance of the Sussex Weald. The field before him fell away sharply - in one place, and at the topmost ridge of the hill stood the gaunt, black ruin of a mighty windmill. There were no sails on this mill, and from where he was standing the sky showed through the timbers of the roof. This was certainly an old mill, if not the old mill, but it did not seem as if he would have much chance of hiding near enough to it to overhear any conversation that might take place outside. This gave him an idea. Suppose the meeting was inside the mill and not outside. Or, better still, was there a chance for him to get there first and hide inside in a place where he could hear all that was happening if Slinky met his companion just outside?