They had changed identities absolutely. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. “I am convinced you haven’t thought this out,” he went on. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. If, around noon, a coconut proa landed, the boys made no effort to unload.
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