an hour's time. All I had to do was to whistle
three bars of "Lillibulero," as a signal. A connection had been already
arranged with the Free Traders on the road beside the quarry, and they
were coming down that night, as we knew well enough, both of us. They
were coming in force from Canterbury way down to the Marsh. It had
cost Ralph a pretty penny; but, once in the hands of the smugglers, his
cousin and Castro would be safe enough from the runners; it would have
needed a troop of horse to take them. The difficulty was that of late
the smugglers themselves had become demoralized. There were ugly rumours
of it; and there was a danger that Castro and Carlos, if not looked
after, might end their days in some marsh-dyke. It was desirable that
someone well known in our parts should see them to the seashore. A boat,
there, was to take them out into the bay, where an outward-bound West
Indiaman would pick them up. But for Ralph's fear for his neck, which
had increased in value since its devotion to Veronica, he would have
squired his cousin. As it was, he fluttered round the idea of letting
me take his place. Finally he settled it; and I embarked on a long
adventure.

CHAPTER TWO

Between moonrise and sunset I was stumbling through the bracken of the
little copse that was like a tuft of hair on the brow of the great white
quarry. It was quite dark, in among the trees. I made the circuit of the
copse, whistling softly my three bars of "Lillibulero." Then I plunged
into it. The bracken underfoot rustled and rustled. I came to a halt.
A little bar of light lay on the horizon in front of me, almost
colourless. It was crossed again and again by the small fir-trunks that
were little more than wands. A woodpigeon rose with a sudden crash of
sound, flapping away against the branches. My pulse was dancing with
delight--my heart, too. It was like a game of hide-and-seek, and yet it
was life at last. Everything grew silent again and I began to think I
had missed my time. Down below in the plain, a great way off, a dog was
barking continuously. I moved forward a few paces and whistled. The
glow of adventure began to die away. There was nothing at all--a little
mystery of light on the tree-trunks.

I moved forward again, getting back towards the road. Against the
glimmer of dead light I thought I caught the outlines of a man's hat
down among the tossing lines of the bracken. I whispered loudly:

"Carlos! Carlos!"

There was