The wind blew, the sea swelled. The storm raged and the rain fell. Inside the lounge, the second elderly gentleman sprinted for the bathroom. Henri de Beauchesne was aware of none of these things. Stars exploded in his mind. His heart danced in his chest. The world was reduced to the vision of a pale face framed by swirling red hair, a pair of large gray eyes behind small round spectacles.

The vision spoke. Henri strained forward to listen.

“The children,” she whispered.

Henri looked wildly about the deck. He could see no children.

“Please,” he said. “Tell me how I can help.”

“Not here!” she cried. “Out there!”

Clara Primrose flung her arms toward the sea and burst into tears.

At Barton Lacey, Hubert Netherbury opened the letter from St. Winifred’s, in which the school secretary informed him that Lotti had not arrived, expressed hope that all was well, and reminded him that the deposit he had paid to secure her place was non-refundable.

It was difficult to determine, in the roar that followed, whether Hubert was more angry at having been made a fool of again, or because he had paid money for nothing.

But he was definitely furious.

For the second time in a week, he telephoned the police.

“Find her,” he said.

PART III

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Sparrowhawk crew were wet, cold, elated, trembling, torn between triumph and tears. The cabins were awash with seawater, the decks were slaked with rain, the dogs were damp and cross, but they had done it! They had beaten a storm, and they were alive! Safely secured to the harbor wall, they waited to go through customs before making their way inland.

With shaking hands, bitterly ashamed of having frozen out at sea but weak with relief that Ben had saved them all, Frank pulled his passport from his rucksack, and told Ben and Lotti to do the same.

“Oh,” said Ben.

Frank looked at him suspiciously. “What now?”

“I don’t have one,” said Ben simply.

Frank swore.

“I sort of forgot,” Ben admitted. “I’ve never been abroad before.”

Lotti, who was cuddling the dogs on Ben’s berth, cast Frank a reproachful look. “We just survived a storm in the Channel, Frank. I think we can manage a customs officer. Ben, what papers do you have?”

Embarrassed, Ben produced the documents he had found before leaving Great Barton—Nathan’s passport, the Sparrowhawk’s papers, his own birth and adoption certificates. Lotti bit her lip in concentration as she went through them.

“I think,” she announced, “now would be a good time to lie.”

When customs officer Jean Lepage arrived, they were ready for him, though their hearts sank when they saw him, because he looked even grumpier than Frank.

Which, right now, was saying something.