Chapter 12

“You worry too much, Jinny.” They walked on, their voices growing fainter and fainter. The wind sighed in the rushes. The pipes of Pan played a plaintive tune. Darkness had fallen on the waters, and one burning star hung high in the purple heavens. It was time to go, but Michael still lay there, looking out into the darkening night. Suddenly he was aware of a rustle near him which was not made by the wind or the wings of some late homing bird. A man was rising up from a flat boat which had been hidden among the rus…