The sailing yacht cut through the clear blue water, heading for a small island, one of the outlying islets of the Bahamas. The Green Man, masked and swathed, was at the whell, while to informally attired girls constituted the crew.
"What beats me," Lady Sylvia sighed, "is how you managed to track us down," she gave the Green Man a signifiacnt look.
"Ms. Madison," the Green Man explained, "carried a tracking device. I gave it to her rather than to you when I learned Rostov would be on board the liner, and that one of his associates had been on each of the liners from wich people disappeared. Knowing that the late Colonel had a soft spot for Ms. Madison, she agreed to appear to yield to his manly charms in order to find out exactly what was going on."
"And what if Rostov had rumbled her?" Lady Sylvia sounded worried.
"There was never," Ms. Madison sighed, "a danger of that. Rostov was such a conceited thug that the moment I melted in his arms he stopped suspecting me. But I'm not doing that sort of thing in a hurry. For one thing, Mike would never forgive me. He's waiting for me in Nassau, you know."
"Is this where we say goodbye?" Lady Sylvia looked concerned.
"Until the next time," Ms. Madison laughed. "You're flying back to England Post-Haste, back to Mainstone, then on to Prior's Hill, just outside Norwich. I've got a holiday booked - and we're needed."