Jasper J. Morton stared out across the great stretch of bare sand. “Do you mean to tell me that in a few minutes all that will be under water enough to float a good-sized ferry-boat? Well, these tides must be French, like all the rest of it. In that case it’s lucky I didn’t try to walk out to the edge of the water to see if I couldn’t find a boat there.” He looked at his watch. “I’m two hours late now. I’m never late for my appointments. My chauffeur won’t know what to make of it. He can’t speak French either, so he won’t be able to ask any questions.”