The Crowd in the Early Morning.
When Richard and Isaac Thornycroft left the dining-room, so
unobtrusively as not to draw attention to the fact, they passed
through the small door at the further end of the hall. Isaac, the
last, silently locked it, thereby cutting off all communication with
the busy part of the house. Swiftly ascending to Richard's chamber,
they changed their clothes for others which were laid out in
readiness. Hyde, his clothes also changed, was in waiting at the foot
of the stairs when they came down, and he crossed with Isaac to the
coach-house opposite, built, as must be remembered, on a portion of
the old ruins. Richard undid the door in the wall looking to the
front, and stayed there until joined by the breathless Tomlett--as
above seen.
The dog-cart was in its place in the coach-house; the broken old cart
and the bundles of straw were in the corner; all just as usual.
Tomlett and Hyde removed the cart and the straw from their resting
place (whence, by all appearance, they never were removed), and the
brothers Thornycroft lifted a trap-door, invisible to the casual
observer, that the straw had served to conceal. A flight of steps
stood disclosed to view, which Isaac and Richard descended. The steps
led to a subterranean passage; a long, long passage running straight
under the plateau and terminating in a vault or cavern, its damp sides
glistening as the light of the lantern flashed upon it. Traversing
this passage to the end, Isaac put the lantern down: then they unwound
a chain from its pulley, and a square portion of the rock, loose from
the rest, was _pulled in_ and turned aside by means of a pivot: thus
affording an ingress for goods, smuggled or otherwise, to come in. No
wonder Robert Hunter had thought the rock sounded hollow just there!
Ah, Mr. Kyne had scented the fox pretty keenly. But not the huntsmen
who rode him to earth.
It took longer to do all this than it has to relate it. When Richard
had helped Isaac to remove the rock, he returned along the passage on
his way to the plateau. It was customary for one of the two brothers
to stand on the plateau on the watch during these dangerous feats,
with his descending signal of warning in case of alarm. Richard took
that post to-night. Oh, that it had been Isaac! But it was marvellous
how lucky they had hitherto been. Years had gone on, and years, and
never a check had come. One great reason for this was that the late
supervisor, Mr. Dangerfield--let us only whisper it!--had allowed
himself to be bribed. What with that, and what with the horror the
preventive men had of the plateau, the daring and profitable game had
been carried on with impunity. Richard Thornycroft went on his way,
little knowing the awful phantom that was pursuing him.
Midway in the passage he met Hyde and Tomlett, tried and true men, on
their way to join Isaac. Mr. Tomlett's accident had occurred during
one of these night exploits--hence his wife's terrified consternation
at being questioned by Miss Thornycroft. A strange chance had led,
some years ago, to Mrs. Tomlett's discovery of what her husband was
engaged in at intervals: the woman kept the secret, but never was free
from fear.
Isaac Thornycroft, left alone, proceeded with his necessary movements.
By help of a long pole, thrust through the hole, he held forth a
blazing flambeau, which for two minutes would light up the half-moon
beach and the rocks behind it. It was the signal for the boats to put
off from that especial vessel that was the object of the worthy
supervisor's abhorrence. And so the night's secret work was fairly
inaugurated. Isaac Thornycroft held his signal for the approach of the
boats, laden with their heavy spoil; Richard was speeding back to
assume his watch overhead; and it was just about this time that Mr.
Hunter had taken his departure from the Red Court Farm.
It is quite useless to speculate, now, _why_ Robert Hunter went on the
plateau. Some power must have impelled him. These things, bearing
great events in their train, do not occur by chance. Had he been
questioned why, he probably could not have told. The most likely
conjecture is, speaking according to human reason, that he intended to
stand a few moments on its brow, and sniff the fresh breeze from the
sea, so grateful to his heated senses. He had taken more wine than
usual; certainly not to anything like intoxication, for he was by
habit and principle a sober man. He had dined more freely; the hot
room, the talking, all had contributed to heat him; and, following on
it, came the interview with Lady Ellis. Whatever the cause, certain it
is that, instead of pursuing the straight course of his road, like a
sensible man, he turned off it and went on the plateau.
It was a remarkably light night--as already said--clear, still,
frosty, very bright. The clouds, passing occasionally over the face of
the clear sky, seemed to be moved by an upper current that did not
stir the air below. The sea was like silver; no craft to be seen on it
save one vessel that was hove-to close in-shore--a dark vessel, lying
still and silent. Robert Hunter, at the very edge of the plateau,
stood looking on all this: a peaceful scene; the broad expanse of sea
stretching out, the half-moon beach lying cold and solitary below.
Suddenly a bright sheet of light shot out from underneath, illumining
the half-moon, the rocks, and his own face, as he bent over to look.
Was he dreaming?--was his brain treacherous, causing him to see things
that were not? There, half-way down the rocks, shone a great flame, a
flickering, flaring, blazing flame, as of a torch; and Robert Hunter
rubbed his eyes, and slapped his chest, and pinched his arms, to make
sure he was _not_ in a dream of wine.
He stood staring at it, his eyes and mouth open; stared at it until,
by some mysterious process, it steadily lowered itself, and
disappeared inside the rocks. Light--not of the torch--flashed upon
him.
"The smugglers!" he burst forth: and the clear night air carried the
words over the sea. "The smugglers are abroad to-night! That must be
their signal for the booty to approach. Then there _is_ an opening in
the rocks! I'll hasten and give word to Kyne."
Flying back straight towards the Red Court, he had leaped the railings
when he encountered Richard Thornycroft, who seemed to be flying along
with equal speed towards the plateau. Hunter seized his arm.
"Richard Thornycroft! Mr. Richard! the smugglers are at work! I have
dropped upon them. Their signal has been hoisted beyond the rocks
underneath."
"What?" roared Richard.
"It is true as that we are breathing here," continued Hunter. "I went
on the plateau, and I saw their light--a flaming torch as big as your
head. They are preparing to run the goods. It struck me there must be
an opening there. I am going to fetch Kyne. Mr. Thornycroft, if he
will come out, may be convinced now."
He would have resumed his way with the last words, but Richard caught
him. The slight form of Robert Hunter was whirled round in his
powerful grasp.
"Do you see this?" he hoarsely raved, his face wearing an awfully
livid expression, born of anger, in the starlight. "It is well
loaded."
Robert Hunter did see it. It was the bright end of a pistol barrel,
pointed close to his head. He recoiled, as far as he could, but the
grasp was tight upon him.
"What, in Heaven's name, do you mean?"
"_You_ talk of Heaven, you treacherous cur!" panted Richard. "Down
upon your knees--down, I say! You shall talk of it to some purpose."
By his superior strength, he forced the younger and slighter man to
his knees on the waste ground as he would a child. The fur coat fell
from Robert Hunter's arm, and lay beside him, a white heap streaked
with black, in the starlight.
"Now, then! Swear, by all your hopes of Heaven, that what you have
detected shall never pass your lips; shall be as if you had not seen
it."
"I swear," answered Robert Hunter. "I believe I guess how it is. I
will be silent; I swear it."
"Now and hereafter?"
"Now and hereafter."
"Get up, then, and go your way. But, another word, first of all,"
interrupted Richard, as if a thought struck him. "This must be kept
secret from my sister."
"I swear that it shall be, for me."
Holding Robert Hunter still in his fierce grasp, he dictated to him
yet another oath, as if not satisfied with the last one. In cooler
moments neither of them might have acted as they were doing: Richard
had been less imperative, the other less blindly yielding. Robert
Hunter was no coward, but circumstances and Richard's fury momentarily
over-mastered him.
He swore a solemn oath--Richard dictating it--not to hold further
communication with Mary Anne at present, either by word or letter; not
to do it until Richard should of his own will voluntarily give
permission for it. He swore not again to put foot within the Red Court
Farm; he swore not to write to any one of its inmates, failing this
permission. The determination not to be pestered with letters perhaps
caused Richard to insist on this. Any way, the oaths were taken, and
were to hold force for six months.
"Now, then, go your way," said Richard. "Your path for departure lies
_there_," and he pointed to the open highway leading from the entrance
gates of the Red Court. "But first hear _me_ swear an oath that I
shall surely keep: If you do not go straight away; if you linger on
this spot unnecessarily by so much as a few minutes; if you, having
once started, return to it again I will put this bullet through your
body. Cyril! See him off; he was turning traitor."
Cyril Thornycroft had come strolling towards them, somewhat at a
distance yet; he did not catch the sense of his brother's concluding
words, but he saw that some explosion of anger had occurred. Picking
up the coat, Hunter put it on as he walked to join Cyril; while
Richard, as if under the pressure of some urgent errand, flew off
across the lawn and flower-beds towards the coach-house ruins and the
secret passage leading from it.
"What is all this? What does Richard mean?" inquired Cyril as they
commenced their walk along the high road. "He said something about a
traitor."
"I was not a traitor; your brother lies. Would I turn traitor to a
house whose hospitality I have been accepting? I saw, accidentally, a
light exhibited from the Half-moon rocks, and I guessed what it meant.
I guess more now than I will repeat, but the secret shall be safe with
me."
"Safe now, and after your departure?"
"Safe always. I have sworn it."
"I am sorry this should have happened," said Cyril, after a pause.
"And so am I," returned Robert Hunter. "Circumstances, not my own
will, led to it. It is a pity I missed the omnibus."
"Yes," said Cyril, speaking abstractedly, as if his thoughts were far
away. "But if you step out well you may be at Jutpoint by half-past
ten."
"Scarcely so," thought Robert Hunter. Cyril, perhaps, did not know the
hour now.
"What! Have you missed the omnibus, sir?"
The question came from a woman who met them, Captain Copp's servant
Sarah. She was coming along without her bonnet in the frosty night.
"Yes, I have; and must walk it for my pains," answered Mr. Hunter.
"Are you going to the Red Court, Sarah?" asked Cyril.
"I am, sir; I'm going there to fetch Miss Chester," returned Sarah in
her hardest tone. "And a fine tantrum master's in over it, roaring out
that I ought to have come a good hour ago. Why didn't they tell me,
then?"
Saying good night to the woman, who wished Mr. Hunter a pleasant
journey, they continued their way, striking into the village; a silent
village to-night. In the windows of the Mermaid above, lights were no
doubt gleaming, but they were not near enough to that hospitable
hostelry to see. Everybody else seemed abed and asleep, as was
generally the case at Coastdown by nine o'clock on a Sunday night.
Cyril had fallen into thought. Should he offer Hunter any apology or
excuse for these practices of his house, so inopportunely discovered,
and which had always been so distasteful to him? Better not, perhaps.
What excusing plea could he justly offer? And besides, he knew not how
far the discovery went, or what Richard had said. A feeling of
resentment against Robert Hunter rose up in his heart, in his anxiety
to ward off ill from his father and brothers, in his jealous care for
the fair fame of the Red Court Farm. Good though he was, striving ever
to follow in his Master's footsteps of love and peace, Cyril
Thornycroft was but human, with a human heart disposed by its original
nature to passion and sin.
"Let me advise you, at any rate for the present, not to hold
communication with our house or its inmates," he said, gently breaking
the silence. "In this I include my sister."
"I have promised all that. Your brother was not satisfied with
exacting a simple promise; he made me swear it. I was to have written
to Mary Anne on my arrival in town. Will you explain to her the reason
why I do not?"
"I thought you and my sister did not correspond," interrupted Cyril.
"Neither do we. It was only to notify my safe arrival."
"I will explain sufficient to satisfy her. I suppose I must not ask
you to give her up?"
"My intention is to win her if I can," avowed Robert Hunter. "She
would share my fortunes tomorrow, but for the fear that my position
would not be acceptable to Mr. Thornycroft."
"I see; it is decided. Well, in your own interest, I would advise you
to break off all present relations with our house. What has occurred
to-night will not tend to increase Richard's favour to you, and his
opinion very greatly sways my father. Your visit here, taking it on
the whole, has not been pleasant, or productive of pleasant results.
Give us time to forget it and you _for the present_. Give Richard time
to forget the name and sojourn of Robert Hunter."
"You say you suggest this in my own interest?"
"I do indeed," answered Cyril, his good, calm face turning on the
speaker with a kindly light. "In yours and my sister's jointly. She
will be true to you, I make no doubt; and things may come about after
a short while. If you have decided to take each other, if your best
affections are involved, why should I seek to part you? But I know
what Richard is; you must give him time to get over this."
"True," answered Robert Hunter, his heart responding to the evident
kindness. "At any rate, there can be no question of my holding
communication with the Red Court Farm for six months, even by letter.
It was a rash oath, no doubt; I was not quite myself when I took it;
but I have undertaken not to write to any one of you until Richard
shall give me leave. At the end of the six months I suppose I shall
hear from him; if not, I shall consider myself at liberty to write--or
to come."
"You will surely hear from him if he has implied that you shall.
Richard never breaks a promise. And now that I have seen you thus far
on your way, I'll wish you well, and turn back again."
"They had reached the end of the village, and he grasped Robert
Hunter's hand with a warm and friendly pressure. The other was loth to
part with him so soon.
"You may as well go with me as far as the Wherry."
Robert Hunter spoke not of a boat or of any landing for one, but of a
lone and dismantled public-house, standing about a couple of hundred
yards farther. Its sign swung on it still, and rattled in the wind.
Cyril acquiesced, and they went down into the bit of lonely road
leading to it.
We must go back for a moment to Richard Thornycroft. He gained the
ruins, and lifted the trap-door with, as it seemed, almost superhuman
strength, for it took of right two to do it. Completely upset by what
had occurred, Richard was like a man half mad. He went thundering down
the steps to the subterranean passage, his errand being to give'
warning to Isaac, and assist in hoisting _two_ lights, which those on
board the vessel would understand as the signal _not_ to advance. He
had reached the cavern at the end, when his alarm began to subside, to
give place to reason; and his steps came to a sudden standstill.
"Why stop the boats?" he demanded of himself. "If Hunter has cleared
himself off--of which there can be no doubt--where is the danger?"
Where, indeed? He thought--Richard Thornycroft did think--that Hunter
was not one to play false after undertaking to be true. So, after a
little more deliberation, somewhat further of counsel with himself, he
resolved to let things go on, and turned back again without warning
Isaac.
* * * * * *
What mattered it that the contraband cargo was safely run? What reeked
the guilty parties concerned in it of the miserable deed of evil it
involved, while the valuable and double valuable booty got stowed away
in silence and safety? One was lying outside the Half-moon, while they
housed it, with his battered face turned up to the sky--one whose
departed soul had been worth all the cargoes in the world. The body
was bruised, and crushed, and murdered--the body of Robert Hunter!
How did it come there?
Coastdown woke lazily up from its slumbers with the dawn--not very
early in January--and only got roused into life and activity by the
startling piece of news that a shocking murder had been committed in
the night. Hastening down to its alleged scene, the Half-moon beach,
as many as heard it, shopkeepers, fishermen, and inhabitants
generally, they found it to be too true. The poor man lay in the
extreme corner of the strip of beach, right against the rocks, and was
recognised for the late guest at the Red Court Farm, Robert Hunter.
Not by his face; for that was disfigured beyond possibility of
recognition; but by the clothes, hair, and appearance generally. He
had been shot in the face, and, in falling from the heights above, the
jagged edges of the rocks had also disfigured that poor face until not
a trace of its humanity remained.
The tide was low; it present the passage to the beach was passable,
and stragglers were flocking up. The frosty air was crisp, the sea
sparkled in the early morning sun. Amidst others came Justice
Thornycroft, upright, portly, a smile on his handsome face. He did not
believe the report; as was evident by his greeting words.
"What's all this hullabaloo about a murder?" began he, as he shelved
round the narrow ledge and put his foot upon the beach. "How d'ye do,
Kyne?--How d'ye do, Copp--How d'ye do, all? When Martha brought up my
shaving-water just now, she burst into my room, her hair and mouth all
awry with a story of a man having been murdered in the night at the
Half-moon. Some poor drowned fellow, I suppose, cast on the banks by
the tide. What brings him so high up?"
"I wish it was drowning, and nothing worse, for that's not such an
uncivilized death, if it's your fate to meet it," returned Captain
Copp, who was brisk this morning after his headache, and had stumped
down on the first alarm. "It's a horrible land murder; nothing less;
and upon a friend of yours, justice."
"A friend of mine!" was the somewhat incredulous remark of Mr.
Thornycroft. "Why, good Heaven!" he added, in an accent of horror, as
the crowd parted and he caught sight of the body, "it is my late
guest, Robert Hunter!"
"It is indeed," murmured the crowd; and the justice stood gazing at it
with horror as he took in the different points of recognition. The
face was gone--that is the best term for one so utterly
unrecognisable--but the appearance and dress were not to be mistaken.
"He's buttoned close up in his fur coat, sir," one of the crowd
remarked.
Just so. He was buttoned up in his remarkable fur coat--as the village
wrongly called it, for the coat was of white cloth, as we know, and
its facings only of fur. It had stains on it now, neither white nor
black, and one of its sleeves was torn, no doubt by the rocks. The hat
was nowhere to be found: it never was found: but the natural
supposition was, that in the fall it had rolled down to the lower
beach, and been carried away by the tide.
Mr. Thornycroft stooped, and touched one of the cold hands, stooped to
hide the tears which filled his eyes, very unusual visitors to the
eyes of the justice.
"Poor, poor fellow! how could it have happened? How could he have come
here?"
"He must have been shot on the heights, and the shot hurled him over,
there's no doubt of that," said Captain Copp. "Must have been standing
at the edge of the plateau."
"But what should bring him on the plateau at night?" cried Tomlett,
who made one of the spectators.
"What indeed!" returned the captain. "_I_ don't know. A bare, bleak
place even in daylight, with as good as no expanse of sea-view."
"I cannot understand this," said Justice Thornycroft, lifting his face
with a puzzled expression on it. "Young Hunter took leave of us last
night, and left for London. He missed the omnibus to Jutpoint and set
off to walk. One of my sons saw him part of the way. What brought him
back on the plateau?"
"Yes, he contrived to lose the omnibus," interrupted Supervisor Kyne;
who, however, what with the wine and the brandy he had consumed, had a
very confused and imperfect recollection of the events of the previous
evening, but did not choose to let people know that, and chose to put
in his testimony. "Mr. Hunter shook hands with me in the dining-room
at the Red Court, and I wished him a pleasant journey. That must have
been--what time, Mr. Justice?"
"Getting on for nine. And one of my boys saw him go."
"It's odd what could have spirited him back again," exclaimed Captain
Copp. "Which of them steered him off?"
"I forget which," returned the justice. "I heard Isaac say that
one of them did. To tell you the truth, captain, I sat late in the
dining-room last night, and my head's none of the clearest this
morning. How do you find yours, Kyne?"
"Oh, mine's all right, sir," answered the supervisor hastily. "A man
in office is obliged to be cautious in what he takes."
"Ah, there's no coming over you," cried the justice, with a side wink
to Captain Copp.
"There's Mr. Isaac hisself, a coming round the point now," exclaimed
one of the fishermen.
The crowd turned and saw him. Isaac Thornycroft was approaching with a
rapid step.
"They say Hunter is murdered!" he called out. "It cannot be."
"He is lying here, stiff and cold, Isaac, with a bullet in his head,"
was the sad reply of the justice. "Shot down from the heights above."
Isaac stooped in silence. His fair complexion and fine colour,
heightened by the morning air, were something bright to look upon.
But, as he gazed at that sadly disfigured form, yesterday so animate
with life and health, a paleness as of the grave overspread his face;
a shudder, which shook him from head to foot, passed through his
frame.
"What brought him here--or on the plateau?" he asked. Almost the same
words his father had used.
"What indeed!" repeated Mr. Thornycroft. "Did you tell me you saw him
off, Isaac? Or was it Richard?"
"It was Cyril. I did not see him at all after he wished us good-bye on
leaving the dining-room. But Richard, when he joined me later in the
evening, said he had been--had been," repeated Isaac, having rather
hesitated at these words, "saying a parting word to Hunter, and that
Cyril was walking part of the way with him."
Throwing a pocket handkerchief lightly over the disfigured face, Isaac
Thornycroft turned from it towards the sea. The justice spoke.
"I wonder where Cyril left him?"
To wonder it was only natural, but Mr. Thornycroft's remembrances of
the matter, as to what he had heard, were altogether hazy. Shut up so
long in the dining-room with his guests--for they had not parted until
past midnight--doing his part as host at the pipes and grog, though
not very extensively, for it was rare indeed that Mr. Thornycroft took
too much, he was in a tired, sleepy state when Isaac had come to him
after their departure to say that the work was done, the cargo safely
in. Isaac had added that he understood from Richard there had been
some trouble with Hunter; who had seen the torch-light exhibited on
the Half-moon beach, and Richard had been obliged to swear him to
secrecy, and had sent Cyril to see him safe away. Of all this, the
justice retained an indistinct remembrance.
"Yes," he said slowly, "I recollect now; it was Cyril that you said,
Isaac. We must go and find Cyril, and ascertain where he parted with
Hunter."
"Why!" suddenly exclaimed a young fisherman of the name of East, "I
saw them both together last night; the gentleman and Mr. Cyril. I'd
been down at my old mother's and was coming out to go home, when they
passed, a walking in the middle of the road. I'd never have noticed
'em, may be, but for the fur coat, for they'd got some way ahead. I
see them stop and stand together like, and shake hands as if they was
about to part; and then they went on again."
"Both of them went on again?" questioned Isaac. "Yes, sir, both. They
went on into the hollow, and I came away."
This young man's mother lived in a solitary hut at the end of the
village: in fact, just where Cyril had proposed to leave Hunter, and
East must have come out at the same moment.
"We'll go at once and see what Cyril says," resumed the justice,
moving away. "Hunter must have come back with him."
"What is to be done with Mr. Hunter, sir?" questioned Tomlett, who had
some sort of authority in the place. It did seem like a mockery to
call that poor mass of death lying there "Mr. Hunter."
He must be taken to the Mermaid, was the reply of Justice Thornycroft,
as he left the beach with his son and three or four friends. "You had
better come up and see Pettipher: he'll know what's right to be done.
Don't be all the morning about it, Tomlett, or you will have the tide
over the path."
Anything for more excitement in a moment like the present! Tomlett,
following closely on the steps of Justice Thornycroft, went away with
a fleet foot on his errand to the Mermaid, and the whole lot of
hearers went racing after him: leaving Captain Copp, who could not
race, and Mr. Supervisor Kyne to keep guard over the dead. Her
Majesty's officer might have gone with the rest, but that he was in a
brown study.
"There's more in this than meets the eye, captain," he began, rousing
himself "If this has not been the work of smugglers, my name's not
John Kyne."
"Smugglers be shivered!" returned Captain Copp, who it was pretty well
suspected in the village obtained his spirits and tobacco without any
trouble to her majesty's revenue: as did others. "There are no
smugglers here, Mr. Officer. And if there were, what should they want
with murdering Robert Hunter?"
"I have been on the work and watch for weeks, captain, and I know
there _is_ smuggling carried on; and to a deuced pretty extent."
"We are rich enough to buy our own brandy and pay duty on it, Mr.
Supervisor," wrathfully retorted the offended captain.
"Oh, psha! I am not looking after the paltry dabs of brandy they bring
ashore," returned the customs' officer. "One may as well try to wash a
blackamoor white as to stop that. I look after booty of more
consequence. There are cargoes of dry goods run here; foreign lace at
a guinea a yard."
"My eye!" ejaculated Captain Copp in amazement, who was willing enough
to hear the suspicions, now he found they did not point to anything
likely to affect his comfort. "Where do they run them to?"
"They run them here, as I believe; here on the Half-moon; and I
suspect they must have a hiding-place somewhere in these rocks."
To describe the intense wonder depicted on the face of the ex-merchant
captain would be impossible. It ended in a laugh of incredulity,
anything but flattering to his hearer.
"I could swear it," persisted the supervisor. "There! Only a few days
ago, I was telling my suspicions to this poor fellow"--glancing over
his shoulder--"and he offered to help me ferret out the matter. He
came down with me here, examined the rocks, sounded them (he was an
engineer, as perhaps you know), and appointed a further hunt for the
next day. I never saw a man more interested, or more eager to pounce
on the offenders. But before the next day arrived I happened to meet
him, and he said he must apologize for not keeping his promise, but he
preferred not to interfere further. When I pressed him for his reason
he only hemmed and ha-ed, and said that, being a stranger, the
neighbourhood might deem his doing so an impertinence. Which of course
was sheer rubbish."
Captain Copp, rather slow at taking in ideas, began considering what
his own opinion was. The supervisor went on, his tone impressive.
"Now, captain, it is my firm belief that this sudden change and Mr.
Hunter's constrained manner, were caused by his having received some
private hint from the smugglers themselves not to aid me in my search;
and that it is nobody but they who have put it out of his power to do
so."
"Whew!" whistled the staggered captain. "I could make more of a
sinking ship than of what you say. Who are the smugglers? How did they
find out he was going to interfere--unless he or you sent 'em word?"
"I don't know how they found it out. The affair is a mystery from
beginning to end. Nobody was present at the conversation except Miss
Thornycroft. And she cannot be suspected of holding communication with
smugglers."
"This young fellow was a sweetheart of hers--eh?" cried the shrewd
captain.
"I don't know anything about that. They seemed intimate. I could
almost swear Old Nick has to do with this smuggling business," added
the supervisor, earnestly. "A fortnight ago there was a dinner at the
Red Court--you were there, by-the-way."
"A jolly spread the old justice gave us! Prime drink and cigars,"
chimed in the salt tar.
"Well--I was there: and one can't be in two places at once. That very
evening they managed to run their cargo; ran it on, as I suspect, to
this identical spot, sir," cried the disconcerted officer, warming
with his grievance. "Vexed enough I was, and never once have I been
off the watch since. Every night have I took up my station on that
cursed damp plateau overhead, my stomach stretched on the ground, to
keep myself dark, and just half an eye cocked out over the cliff--and
all to no purpose. Last night, Sunday, I went in again to dine with
the hospitable justice, and I'll be--I'll be shivered, sir, as you
sometimes say, if they did not take advantage of it, and run another
cargo!"
Never, since the memorable time of his encounter with the pirates
which resulted in the disabling him for life, had Captain Copp been so
struck--dumb, as it were. Nothing was left of him but amazement.
"Bless and save my wooden leg!" he exclaimed, when his tongue was
found--"it is unbelievable. How do you know it?"
"I know it, and that's enough," replied Mr. Kyne, too much annoyed to
stand upon politeness, or to explain that his boasted knowledge was
assumed; not proved. "But, here's the devil of the thing," he
continued--"how did the smugglers know I was off the watch those two
particular nights? If it got wind the first night that I should be
engaged at the Red Court--though I don't believe it did, for I can
keep my own counsel, and did then--it could not have got wind the
second. Five minutes before I went there last night, I had no notion
whatever of going. Mr. Isaac looked into my rooms just before six, and
_would_ walk me off with him. I had had my chop at one o'clock, and
was going to think about tea. Now how could the wretches have known
last night that I was not on duty?"
"It's no good appealing to me, how," returned the captain. "I never
was 'cute at breaking up marvels. Once, in the Pacific, there was a
great big thing haunted the ship, bigger than the biggest sea-serpent,
and--"
"Depend upon it we have traitors in the camp," unceremoniously
interrupted the supervisor; for he knew by experience that when once
Captain Copp was fairly launched upon that old marvel of the Pacific
ocean, there was no stopping him. "Traitors round about us, at our
very elbows and hearths, if we only knew in which direction to look
for them."
"Well, I am not one," said the captain, "so you need not look after
me. A pretty figure my wooden standard would cut, running smuggled
goods! Why didn't you tell all this to Justice Thornycroft? He's the
proper person. He's a magistrate."
"I know he is. But if I introduce a word about smugglers he throws
cold water on it directly, and ridicules all I say. Once he quite rose
up against me, all his bristles on end, in defence of the poor
fishermen. Upon that, I hinted that I was not alluding to poor
fishermen, but to people and transactions of far greater importance.
It stirred up his anger beyond everything; he was barely civil, and
turned away telling me to find the people and catch 'em, if I could
find 'em; but not to apply to him."
"Well, that's reasonable," said Captain Copp. "Why _don't_ you find
'em?"
"Because I _can't_ find 'em," deplored the miserable officer. "There's
the aggravation. I don't know in what quarter to look for them. The
thing is like magic; it's altogether shrouded in mystery. I don't
choose to speak of it publicly, or I might defeat the chance of
discovery; the only time I did speak of it, was to Mr. Hunter, and got
sympathy and aid offered and returned to me. You see what has come of
that."
It was only too evident what _he_ thought had come of it. And perhaps
he was not far wrong. But for that recent morning's unlucky
conversation between him and Robert Hunter, no dead man might have
been lying on the Half-moon beach, with Isaac Thornycroft's
handkerchief covering his face.
"Yes, that's the difficulty--where to look for them," resumed the
mortified supervisor. "I cannot suspect any of the superior people in
the neighbourhood. It's true I do not know much of those Connaughts.
But they don't seem like smugglers either."
"The Connaughts!" roared out the captain, taking up their cause as a
personal offence. "Why don't you say it's me? Why don't you say it's
yourself? The Connaughts! Who next, Mr. Supervisor? Why, old Connaught
is bedridden half his time, and the son has got his eyes strained on
books all day, learning to be a parson."
"That's true," grumbled the officer, in his miserable incertitude.
"All I know is, I can't fathom the affair, worry over it as I will."
"Here comes the plank," interrupted the captain. "I shan't stop to see
_that_ moved: so good morning to you, sir."
He stumped off, mortally offended; and met Tomlett and the landlord of
the Mermaid inn, with the long queue of curious idlers behind them.