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there; they cost about a third of what they do elsewhere. Or American cigarettes.”
    While Julia stood silent in front of the radar machine, digesting this quite new idea, a seaman in shirt-sleeves came into the chart-room, bearing a dirty high-sided wooden tray with a pot of tea, some chipped cups, and a jug of the horrible condensed milk—Reeder poured out a cup, which he told the seaman to take out to the helmsman; then he offered Julia one.
    â€œOh, no, thanks, I think tea is quite too revolting, with this unutterable milk—how you all bear it I can’t imagine! But do have a go yourself; I have my thermos of
Nescafé
down below.”
    Reeder laughed, and poured himself a cup of the dreadful brew. Drinking it, rather to Julia’s surprise he reverted to the subject of Edina. “She must be quite a considerable girl, to be earning such a huge screw. How old did you say she is?”
    â€œI didn’t say. But in fact she’s twenty-five.”
    â€œFormidable,” said Reeder. “And now she’s running the farm?”
    â€œWell, they have three farms in hand, actually; she’s running those, and the saw-mill and lime-mill—and of course she has to supervise the other eight farms, see to gates and fences and so on; and then the hill sheep, naturally. They simply can’t afford a factor, with taxation what it is. Who can?”
    â€œSheep, eh? What sort? Black-faced on the hill, I suppose?”
    â€œYes, and some cross lambs on the low ground.”
    â€œDo you winter those away?”
    â€œNo, it’s not worth it. Why, do you know about farming in the Highlands?’
    â€œNot there, but I was brought up on a place in Northumberland.” Julia was momentarily struck by his use of the word ‘place’ rather than ‘farm’. “Good heavens!” Mr. Reederpursued—’What a job for a girl! I should say being a mate is a picnic to it.”
    â€œI couldn’t agree more. I think life on this ship is one long picnic—if you leave out the food,” said Julia.
    Reeder laughed again, heartily this time.
    â€œWell, I wish you all luck in your search,” he said. “Anyhow you’ll be making it in some of the most delightful places in the world. Tangier, is it, that you’re making your base? Know it?”
    â€œNo—I’ve never set foot in North Africa. Rather a thrill, really. But any hints and tips will be gratefully received,” said Julia, with a hint of her beguiling grin. She felt sure that if Mr. Reeder vouchsafed any information or suggestions about Tangier they would be on quite different lines to Geoffrey’s. She was not wrong. He stared rather hard at her, for a moment or two, in the faint reflected glow from the light over the chart-table; then—
    â€œWell, I will give you one,” he said at last. “I don’t suppose it would normally be given to young ladies, but then I know nothing about young ladies!”
    â€œWell, what is it?” Julia asked with a sort of tranquil impatience. “Don’t bother over-much about young ladyhood, because I’m congenitally hard-boiled.”
    â€œThat was rather my impression, in spite of your appearance,” Reeder said, grinning a little through his beard. “Well go sometimes when you’re in Tangier to Purcell’s Bar—it’s a good place, one of the nicest there is.”
    â€œGood drinks?”
    â€œYes, first class: no wood-alcohol to put your eyes out. And Purcell is a most delightful type—
sabe todo.”
    â€œOh, he does, does he? Might he know Colin?”
    Mr. Reeder displayed panic, unexpectedly.
    â€œOh, for God’s sake don’t go walking in to Purcell’s Bar and asking about smugglers!” he said hastily. “That would put the lid on. No—but when you’ve salted him, just drifting in andhaving a gin-and-something for a bit, you might throw a fly over