‘I can’t see how we get hold of these fellows,’ said Denis. ‘Anyhow, everything seems quiet. What do you suppose my aunt had in her mind?’
‘I don’t think anything definite, sir,’ replied George. ‘If, on the beach, we don’t contact the gentlemen, I should suppose it is up to us to formulate a plan of campaign.’
‘Yes, but who are the enemy, dash it? You can’t campaign without an enemy. Who are the party of the other part?’
‘It passes me to say, sir, but I have my suspicions of that pull-in for coaches a little further up, near the hotel. I take it that madam has told you of our geological expedition?’
‘The cave? Oh, yes. All right, then, George. Look here! Let’s go and break into the place, and see what we can discover. What do you say?’
‘Very good, sir,’ replied the sober man. ‘If I may say so, it would be an anti-traumatic act, and, as such, it would please me greatly.’
‘The war has altered our outlook, don’t you think, George?’ Denis enquired, amused and delighted by the man’s acceptance of the scheme.
‘Not so much altered it as enhanced it, sir, perhaps.’
‘You mean we’re all thugs at heart? It’s very likely, and seems an inspiring thought. Anyway, here we go. Have you any suggestions to offer before we muscle up?’
‘Yes, sir. I think perhaps the indirect method would be the most successful. I will go back to where we left the car, and there, with your permission, I can effect some trifling mishap to the engine. Nothing to hurt, sir, of course. Then we can put on a bold face, knock up the people at the little shack and ask for a garage hand to help us. Even if help is refused, we may get a look at the place. It is better than a direct storming of the beach-head, sir, I think.’
‘Right, George. You go and nobble the car, then, and I’ll have a look round on the beach for those two lads of Irishmen. I wonder where they’ve got to by this time? Might be anywhere. I’ve no idea what their plans were, if any.’
‘From an elementary knowledge of the Irish temperament, sir, I should be inclined to suppose that by this time they are in the thick of whatever is going on. Irishmen are not so much born to trouble, sir, as born to look for it, irrespective of whether the sparks fly upward or not.’
George went back to the car and Denis onward to the beach. Denis was both elated and satisfied ; elated with a sense of adventure all too seldom experienced since the war, and satisfied with the hiding-place which he and George had found for the iron box which had been pulled up out of the circle of standing stones.
The beach, at first glance, seemed deserted. Then he was aware of a groaning noise not very far to his right. He stepped on to the dirty shingle and began to explore. It might be one of the Irishmen in trouble, or it might be one of their victims, he reflected. In view of the groans, he was inclined to the latter view, and so went warily, not knowing whether he might be ambushed as he approached.
‘Where are you?’ he called. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘Boss, there was all five of ’em. Five on to one,’ groaned the voice. ‘And me not doing nothing but me plain duty, as anyone but suckers might know.’
‘Are you
‘Boss, they’ve pretty near done for me, I reckon. I couldn’t ’elp it if the boat was took while I was laid out bleedin’ on the beach!’
‘Nonsense, man!’ said Denis vigorously. ‘Get up, and don’t be a fool!’
It did not surprise him to hear a scrabbling sound on the shingle, followed by the noise of heavy boots beneath whose impact the shingle began to shudder away.
‘Where are you’ boss?‘ asked the voice.
‘Here!’ said Denis, flinging himself suddenly sideways, and not too soon, for a draught past his ear was followed by a tinkle of metal falling on to the stones.
‘You rat!’ he said, leaping forward. The man was taken unawares. Denis was fairly light, but was young and tough. The impact with the shingle as he went to ground with his man sent pins and needles up his arm, but he had made his kill. He got up and the man stayed down.
‘You beauty!’ said Denis. He picked the man’s head up and bounced it on the shingle for luck, and then stared out to sea to where a ship was making signals of distress.
‘Hullo,’ he thought, ‘someone in trouble. I suppose the coastguards will spot the flares, but just in case they don’t…’
He turned, wading over the shingle. It would be necessary to contact George, but the first consideration must be to give the alarm. He raced along the road to the hotel. There was no night-porter, but one of the servants, in his dressing-gown, answered the bell.
Denis cut short his announcement that it was too late to take in travellers, and informed him of the wreck. The man left him standing at the door, and hurried back into the house to arouse the landlord. He was obviously more excited than upset.
It seemed to Denis that he had done what he could for the ship, and that his duty was now to George and the car, and to Mrs. Bradley’s errand. It occurred to him, too, that, if he were quick enough, he might be in time to prevent George from disabling the engine, for it would be easy enough to arouse the whole village, the men at the pull-in included, with the news of a wreck in the bay. From Denis reading he had deduced that such tidings brought every soul in the village on to the beach, if only to salvage the cargo. He was anxious to avoid putting the car out of action unnecessarily, for it was not good tactics, he felt, for George and himself to handicap their chances of escape by nobbling their own transport. He was light on his feet and in good shape. He ran up the road at twelve miles an hour, and caught George before the latter had reached the car.
He gave him the news. George, glad enough to leave the car intact, for she was his pride and joy, returned with him to the pull-in. There was no doubt of the excitement in the small village at the news of the wreck, but when Denis hammered at the door of the shack a light went on, and a fully-dressed man with a smear of white across the sleeve of his dark blue suit, opened up with an oath, and demanded to know what in hell had gone wrong now. Denis was greatly disappointed to find the place still occupied, but he spoke up cheerfully.
‘All right! All right! There’s a ship on the rocks in the bay. Can you go and help?—or tell me whom to send?’
‘Get out, you—!’ said the man, as he slammed the door.
George pulled at Denis’ arm.
‘Come on, sir,’ he said. ‘That fellow has come from the cave. Did you spot the limestone on his sleeve? They’re running the stuff to-night, whatever it is. I should think we could leave ’em to the coastguards. They’ll never get by if boats are all going off to a ship in distress. They’re absolutely sure to be spotted, and smuggling was one thing that madam suspected from here.’
‘I
Shaking his head in a middle-aged manner which indicated that he thought the plan ill-advised, George followed him across the yard to where stood the double doors of the garage belonging to the pull-in.
‘Now,’ said Denis, producing a small electric torch, ‘I wonder how much one can see?’ He shone the torch into the crack between the double doors, and tried to squint through the opening.
‘Dash!’ he began; but he stopped at the sound of a whistle.
‘Look out, sir!’ said George. Both shot away from the doors and took cover at the side of the garage. At the same instant a broad shaft of light came across the yard from the shack. A man stood silhouetted against the light as the door was flung open, and the whistle apparently was still at his lips, for he blew it before the man who had opened to Denis’ knock reached out and pulled him inside again. The door of the shack slammed shut, and the yard was in darkness once more.
‘Now’s our chance, sir, I think!’ muttered George. ‘They’ll be out here again in a minute.’ He drew a large file from his pocket, inserted one end between the doors of the garage and gave a sinewy jerk. The doors came open towards him. He and Denis went in, and Denis pulled the doors to.
‘Odd they weren’t padlocked,’ he said.
‘Lends colour to what we think, sir,’ George responded. ‘They get to the cave this way, and back to the
