agistrates had me under fire there
for many a day."

"See here, Simpson," said Major Hardwicke, "a man who would murder the
father, would rob the daughter! I'll give you a thousand pounds if you
instantly notify me, if Hawke ever is found creeping around here. There
may be some ugly old family secrets, you know."

"I'm your man! Pay or no pay!" cried Simpson. "Only they think of giving
me a three months' leave on pay to visit my people."

"Don't go! Don't go! till I tell you!" cried the Major.

"I am glad this fellow Hawke, whom you say has been dropped, is now on
his way back to India," said Simpson.

"Yes, but he might show up here devilish strangely," mused Hardwicke.
"He is just the fellow for a dirty fluke. Watch over Nadine, Simpson,"
cried Hardwicke, "for I've sworn to make her my wife, within three
months, uncle or no uncle!"

"I will," growled Simpson. "I've an old grudge to settle with the Major,
and I'll tell you some day," said the veteran. "Let us go in. There are
some curious people here. I'll tell you all when I'm your own man, and
the young mistress is Mrs. Major Hardwicke!"

On this very evening, as the gray mists hid the Jersey outline from the
windows of Etienne Garcin's den, Jack Blunt and Major Alan Hawke were
seated in the Major's bedroom in the cabaret. They were cheerfully
discussing two steaming "grogs," but there was doubt and a shifty lack
of thorough confidence between the two scoundrels as yet.

"So you think the boat will do?" flatly demanded Jack Blunt, offering
some exceptional cigars.

"Just the thing," carefully replied the Major. "And your terms for a two
weeks charter?"

"Twenty-five hundred francs for the boat and outfit--the same sum for
the gang, cash down. Two weeks, with the privilege of renewal for two
more-at the same rate," doggedly said Blunt. "Now, you've got to make
up your mind soon, Hawke," said Jack Blunt roughly. "I've told you the
whole lay, and so far, have given you the worth of your money. If you
can't 'come up,' then I'm going to run a lugger load of brandy and
'baccy over to the Irish coast. She's a sixty tonner and by God! fit
to cross the Atlantic! Old Garcin, too, is getting impatient. Our being
here, stops his 'regular business,'" gloomily said Blunt.

Hawke's impassive face angered Jack Blunt as he continued: "And you say
that I can trust Garcin's brother Andre down at Isle Dial."

"Yes. Even if we had to stow one or both of these fools away dow