Parson Goffin was still grumbling on the bench under one of the cedars when Jack Bumpstead appeared from the direction of the stables.
"Here be a man for to see you, Master Jasper."
"Who is it, Jack?"
"Thomas Stook o' Bramble End."
"Send him round. Wait, though, I'll come myself. Where did you leave him, Jack?"
"In the yard."
Jasper found Tom Stook sitting on the horse-block and tickling himself pensively with a straw. His brown face remained shy and stolid when he saw Jasper. He stood up, slouching his shoulders, the straw tucked away in one corner of his mouth.
"Well, Tom, what is it?"
Stook surveyed the yard, and scrutinised the kitchen windows with sneering suspiciousness.
"Them turmit-flies o' wenches; always poppin' about. Maybe, sir, you might like to see them signal lights at Stonehanger. I wouldn't be for promising, but I have my sense o' smell. They say that Mounseer Jerome be comin' ashore to-night."
"The smuggling rogue! How do you know, Tom?"
Stook grinned, and looked expressively at Jasper.
"Maybe a little bird dropped ut down t' chimney. Maybe there'll be kegs on t' beach. It be'unt no business o' mine, but you can see Stonehanger from my cottage."
"So these devils of smugglers play two games. They ought to sink Jerome and his boat. Tom, you've got some sense."
"Thank 'ee, sir."
"Get into the stable and saddle the new brown cob, not Devil Dick. And keep your mouth shut, see."
"I will—sure, Master Jasper."
Jasper went in by the back entry and made his way noiselessly upstairs. He took his pistols and a hanger, and rejoined Tom Stook in the stable. Jeremy and Parson Goffin were arguing together under the cedars, and Jasper left them at it, wishing to get away without being questioned. Coming out with Tom Stook and the cob he took the field path that turned aside under the orchard hedge.
The western horizon was a level band of yellow light, with blue-black hills below and a sky of lapis-lazuli above. The full moon was a great silver buckler on a field of blue. Big stars were beginning to glitter as Jasper and Tom Stook turned down by one of the high hedges with the long grass and weeds brushing their knees. The hedge hid them from Rush Heath, a hedge that smelt of honeysuckle, and trailed the pink sprays of the wild rose over the green of the hazel, thorn, and holly.
Twilight fell as they made their way toward Bramble End, and the world became a world of amethyst and of silver. The Stonehanger uplands were dim and vague in the distance. The colour had melted out of the western sky when they reached the rough track that led to Bramble End. Jasper had mounted the cob, and Tom Stook swung along ahead on his long and lumbering legs, a length of straw still dangling from one corner of his mouth.
Stook's cottage had the shape of a hay-rick. It was built of stone and thatched with heather. A tumble-down shed or lodge stood half hidden by three elder trees that grew close together in the hedge. All about the place lay a tangle of brambles, furze, blackthorn, and bracken.
"I'll put t' nag in t' lodge, Master Jasper."
"Right, Tom."
Jasper made his way to the back of the cottage. There was a piece of vegetable ground here shut in by a low hedge. A yew-tree grew close to the cottage, and a seat made of the rotting tail-board of a cart had been laid upon two logs. Away to the north rose Stonehanger Common, and in the twilight Jasper could distinguish the grey mass of Durrell's house.
He sat down under the yew-tree, and Tom Stook came round from the lodge.
"A good look-out, Master Jasper."
"No wonder you could see the lights, Tom. What time do they show them up yonder?"
"Must have been nigh on midnight when I've seen 'em afore."
"That means three hours' sentry work. Have you had your supper?"
"No, I ain't."
"You go in and get it. I'll keep a watch here. If it should come to a scuffle, Tom, are you ready to see it through?"
Stook scratched a meditative chin.
"Sure, Master Jasper, so long as it be'unt with Sussex folk."
"You don't mind beating a Frenchman?"
"They be nasty beasts with their knives and pistols."
"You can leave that part of it to me, Tom."
"Oh—I doan't say as I be afraid."
Jasper kept watch there in the dusk, with the light of the moon becoming more brilliant as night gave her the darkness that she needed. "Pee-weet, pee-weet" wailed a plover somewhere over the furze. From an oak wood in the valley came the "burring" of a night-jar. With steady patience Jasper kept his eyes on the place where Stonehanger house cut the sky-line. Once he saw the distant twinkle of a candle, coming from Nance's window, so far as he could judge. The furzelands were vague, black, and desolate under the moon, strange eerie wastes where anything might happen.
Jasper's thoughts dwelt upon Nance, though the reverie of a man in love is rather a visualising of the woman beloved than a meditation upon her mystery. The white face of the moon and the dusky elf-locks of the night were wholly feminine. Jasper imagined himself walking with Nance in the dark old shrubbery behind Stonehanger, looking into the dim dearness of her face, touching her hand, and uttering her name.
Tom Stook's clumsy figure drifted across these passionate imaginings. He was wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, and looking toward Stonehanger.
"What may you be after, sir?"
"I am out hunting, Tom, to catch a fox of a Frenchman. And look you here, I want you to keep your mouth shut about all this, the lights up yonder, and the comings and goings. It will be worth your while."
"Sure, Master Jasper, you be a gen'leman o' sense. It be'unt no business o' mine."
"There is some one who has to be protected. I want to lay a rogue by the heels without harming innocent people."
Stook brought out a short clay pipe, and a little leather bag in which he kept tobacco. He had to go indoors to get a light from the wood fire that he had lit to cook his supper. When he emerged, the bowl of his pipe glowing, he had one very characteristic remark to make.
"It be powerful cold f' June."
Jasper felt for his pocket flask. He knew that it was inward warmth that the man needed.
"One pull, Tom, and no more. We must keep our heads clear to-night."
Two hours passed, and the vague, moonlit slopes of the common began to suggest all manner of mysterious movements to Jasper's tired eyes. Stonehanger was a dim outline against the sky. He had begun to doubt whether anything was going to happen when a bright, yellow point flashed out suddenly in the north. It remained there for some ten seconds, and then disappeared as though a curtain had been jerked forward to cover it.
"You seed ut, sir!"
"Was that from Stonehanger, Tom?"
"Sure."
They waited awhile, and in due course the light flashed out a second time and died back into the night with equal suddenness.
"What do they mean by that?"
"Mounseer Jerome be about somewhere."
Jasper meditated.
"I tell you what, Tom, we will make our way up to Stonehanger."
"Better try t' owld quarry, sir."
"They meet there?"
"I reckon they do."
"Have you got a lantern?"
"Sure."
"Fetch it, and bring a thick stick with you."
They left the cottage, Jasper with his hanger and pistols, Tom Stook carrying a lantern, and a stout hollywood cudgel. Tom took the lead, pushing his way along a narrow, winding path half overgrown by straggling furze, their figures melting away into the blackness of the moor.
After twenty minutes of this rough going, Tom Stook stopped abruptly, and stood listening. Jasper paused close to him. There was no wind, and no stirring of the furze in the clear sheen of the moonlight.
"T' quarry be yonder, sir."
"Where?"
"Just down over t' bank."
They spoke in whispers, bending forward and looking across the moor.
"Can you hear anything, Tom?"
"Not me."
He put the lantern down, and scratched his chin.
"I reckon I'll go on, Master Jasper, and take a look into t' quarry."
He went down on all-fours, and Jasper saw his long, loosely knit body go crawling along the path like some big beast of prey. He disappeared with nothing more than a faint rustling of the furze, and Stonehanger Common seemed as still and as empty as a becalmed sea at midnight. Tom Stook was away twenty minutes. He came back, walking, his holly-stick over his shoulder.
"There be'unt no one—yet."
"Well, then, we had better take cover in the quarry."
They went on and clambered down through the furze into the mouth of the quarry. A rough trackway led into it, and Tom Stook seemed to know the place as well as he knew his own garden. There was some open ground in the centre, though dwarf-trees, brambles, and furze made a tangled mass along the walls. Stook chose a place near the entry, a kind of nest shut in by the wild undergrowth, and under the black shadow of the quarry wall. A gap between two furze bushes gave them a view of the open space, and of the trackway leading into the quarry.
"I'll have t' lantern ready, Master Jasper."
He took off his coat, produced a tinder-box, and, going down on his knees, proceeded to get a light.
"She's got a shade, sir, and I'll put her on under t' bush with m' coat to make it safe."
The lantern was lit and hidden away, and they were both growing stiff and rather tired of waiting when Tom Stook touched Jasper's shoulder.
"Did ye hear that?"
Through the stillness of the moonlit night a faint sound reached them, a sound as of some one brushing through the furze. It might, have been a strayed sheep, or even a rabbit scuttling among the dry stems of the furze, but for the distinctive scraping of feet over the rough ground. Jasper crept forward, and stood waiting in the gap between the two furze bushes. He had borrowed Stook's holly-cudgel, and was in the deep shadow, and not likely to be seen.
The footsteps came nearer and nearer, and paused outside the quarry. A deep and grumbling voice growled sulkily as though its owner were tired and out of temper. Then the man entered the quarry, passing close by the place where Jasper stood.
Benham saw him as a shortish, thick-set man with a great round head, and a slouching walk. It was just a glimpse, for Jasper made his leap, springing out from the black shadow into the moonlight. The man swung round with a quick snarl of surprise.
"Tonnerre!"
The holly-stick swung just before a pistol flashed, and the bullet thudded against the wall of the quarry. Jasper knocked the pistol out of the man's hand, gave him a tap on the skull, and then closed. So far as the tussle went, it was not a very serious affair. Youth was well served in handling this little round cask of a man. He was rolled over, and pinned flat on his back, while Jasper wrenched a second pistol and a knife out of his belt and threw them away into the undergrowth.
"Tom, bring your lantern. Quick, man, quick!"