We had long passed quarantine and a convoy of tugs were butting us into the dock.
"What are you going to do ?" I asked.
"Doesn't depend on me," he said.

"Depends on Smedburg.

He's a busy little body!" The boy wanted me to think him unconcerned, but beneath the flippancy I saw the nerves jerking.

Then quite simply he began to tell me.

He spoke in a low, even monotone, dispassionately, as though for him the incident no longer was of interest.
"They were watching me," he said.