Tom Stook came running out with the lantern.
"Have ye got him, Master Jasper?"
"It looks rather like it, Tom—eh!"
The light fell upon a fat, swarthy, and sullen face that blinked its eyes at the lantern.
"Mounseer Jerome—sure!"
The man heaved, and swore savagely.
"Sacre bleu,—give off my chest!"
"Lie still."
Jasper was in no mood for wasting time, since he desired the business over and done with before De Rothan or Durrell should appear.
"Tom, take him by the wrists and hold his hands above his head. Quiet, will you, or I'll give you a crack with the stick."
Jerome glared and lay still, his arms extended above his head like the arms of a man upon the rack. Jasper unbuttoned the Frenchman's coat, and went through all his pockets. He found nothing there save a pipe, and a tobacco-box. Something lying under the man's shirt betrayed itself as Jasper passed his hand over Jerome's broad chest. As Jasper tore the shirt open the Frenchman's body squirmed like the body of a man who stiffens his muscles to resist.
"Hold on, Tom."
"Help, there,—help!"
"Lie quiet, or by George, I'll put a bullet through your head."
Jasper drew out a flat, leather pocket-book or case that was fastened by a string round Jerome's neck. Jasper snapped the string, and turned aside toward the lantern to examine the plunder. It contained several sheets of paper neatly folded and covered with what appeared to be a jumble of dots, lines, and letters. Jasper's brown face showed grim and intent by the light of the lantern.
"Cipher, to be sure! This is what I expected to find."
He put the sheets back into the leather case, and thrust it into the inner pocket of his coat. The sea-captain's eyes were watching him with evil interest, and he had the air of one who listened.
Jasper understood. Captain Jerome expected a rescue.
"Tom, I want to be rid of this gentleman, and I don't want the red-coats to get hold of him, either."
"Sir?"
"March him down to within a mile of the sea, and send him off with a blessing."
"I'll do't, Master Jasper."
"Monsieur Jerome, it is lucky for you that I am giving you this chance. Clear out, and let us hear no more of you. If ever I hear of you showing your face on this side of the Channel, I'll have you taken and shot as a spy. You understand?"
"I speak no English."
"Nonsense. You get off back to France, and pray to God to keep you from playing at carrying secret signals. Up with him, Tom. Here, put one of my pistols in your belt."
Tom Stook grinned, and swung the Frenchman to his feet. Jasper gave him a pistol and the hollywood cudgel.
"Bundle him off, Tom. I want him out of the way. I am staying on here to see what happens."
Stook took the sea-captain by the collar.
"Come along, you barrel o' sour beer. No shouting, mind ye, and no tricks. Come along."
Jasper heard them go blundering along down the path, Stook helping the Frenchman along with vigorous bumps of the bent knee. Jasper smiled to himself and picked up the lantern, and, returning to his lurking-place, he put out the light and sat down to wait.
It was De Rothan whom he expected, this insolent and sneering émigré, who dabbled his hands in midnight treacheries. Jasper did not doubt that the packet of cipher he had taken from the smuggling sea-captain Jerome would compromise not only De Rothan but Anthony Durrell and his daughter. Jasper's attitude was one of shrewd and patient restraint. A scheme that was defeated might be considered to be non-existent, and there would be no need to swoop upon the lesser dupes when the dominant spirit had been dealt with.
Something crackled into a clump of briers close to where Jasper lay in ambush. It was a stone flung from above as a signal to Jerome, who should have been waiting in the quarry. Jasper kept very still. He heard some one pushing through the furze and brushwood round the rough lip of the quarry. Footsteps came down toward the entrance. Then there was silence.
Jasper leaned forward and peered round one of the furze bushes. A man was standing in the trackway leading into the quarry, his face turned toward the sea. By his height and build, and by the arrogant throw-back of the head, Jasper knew him for De Rothan. He stood there like a figure carved in black basalt, motionless, watchful, full of a fine yet sinister suggestiveness.
Jasper watched him. How easy it would be to bring the man down, wing him, put an end to all his weavings of treachery. He did not doubt but that De Rothan was armed. They might make a fight of it there, but Jasper was not given to shooting in the dark. He wanted to prove the whole case against De Rothan, to convince himself and Nance of the man's double dealing.
Minutes passed, and De Rothan showed a growing impatience. He began to walk to and fro along the trackway, stopping from time to time to listen or stare out over the stretch of moonlit furze. It was evident that he had not heard the report of Jerome's pistol, and that he suspected nothing in the way of intervention. The smuggler had failed to appear; that was what made De Rothan restless.
For an hour the Frenchman walked up and down while Jasper lay behind the furze bushes and kept watch. Once De Rothan paused within three yards of him and stood listening, muttering angrily over the absence of Jerome.
His patience gave out at last. Jasper saw him walk to the entrance of the quarry, stare into the distance, and then turn, and clamber up the bank. Jasper held back till the sound of De Rothan's footsteps had died down into the night. Then he pushed Tom Stook's lantern under a bush, climbed out of the quarry, and, striking the path that led toward Stonehanger, followed it with some of the caution of an Indian working a trail.
Jasper neither heard nor saw anything of De Rothan till he came in sight of the chimneys of Stonehanger rising above the ridge of ground that hid the lower part of the house from view. Jasper paused here instinctively, and it was well that he did so. A black figure rose into view on the rising ground above and stood with the grey oval of its face turned toward the sea.
Then De Rothan disappeared. Jasper pushed on, topped the rising ground, and over the furze saw Stonehanger grey and glaring in the light of the full moon. Chimneys, parapet, window frames, even the individual stones in the walls were clear and distinct. The thorns and yews were bunches of black foliage rising above the grey line of the terrace wall.
Jasper could not help asking himself why Jerome had chosen such a night for landing, and how he had been able to avoid the patrols.
"Money and rum work wonders. These smugglers squeeze in everywhere."
He saw De Rothan mount the steps to the terrace and stand there looking at the windows of the house. Jasper seized his chance to slip forward and gain the shelter of some furze bushes that straggled close to the terrace wall.
He heard voices on the terrace. Anthony Durrell had been waiting for De Rothan, and but for his short sight he would have seen Jasper make his dash across the open grounds for the shelter of the furze bushes under the wall.
"Jerome has failed us. I waited more than an hour."
De Rothan glanced at Nance's window.
"Is madam asleep?"
"Yes. Speak softly, she mustn't know that you are here. Perhaps we mistook Jerome's light."
"No, I'm sure of that. Hallo—!"
The voices broke off abruptly like the voices of two plotters who hear the sound of stealthy footsteps coming toward them. Jasper had made his way to the terrace wall. He flattened himself against it, expecting to see a head appear over the edge of the parapet.
Then he heard some one calling, "Who's there?"
It was Nance's voice, and the moonlight seemed to quiver with it. She had thrown her lattice open and was leaning out, and scanning the terrace. Durrell had drawn De Rothan under the dense shadow cast by one of the yews.
They remained there motionless, till Nance disappeared for a moment from the window.
"Quick, round to the back of the house."
"This game of hide-and-seek is all nonsense, Durrell. You had much better let the girl know the truth."
"No, no, she's not to be trusted."
"My dear sir, I'll make her trustworthy. You do not know how to manage women."
They had crossed the terrace and passed down the passage that led to the offices and stables. Durrell was agitated and impatient, De Rothan a little scornful. He was tiring of Durrell's moods and eccentricities. If everything went well, the fanatic would have served his purpose in the course of the next few weeks. He would be thrown aside like a broken tool.
"Jerome won't come to-night. I'll be off; I left my nag round under the wall."
Durrell was full of vague fears.
"I hope nothing has happened."
"Bah! Jerome found the moon too bright. Besides, the news we expect is too important to be risked with a shrug of the shoulders. If Villeneuve can only get into the Channel and hold it for three days! Fate will spin the coin for us before long."
Meanwhile Jasper had crept cautiously along the front of the wall and reached the steps. He climbed them slowly, pausing when his head came on a level with the terrace. It was deserted. Grass, flower-beds, and stone-paved walk lay white in the light of the moon.
Jasper climbed the last steps, and stood looking up at Nance's window. A passionate exultation possessed him, and for the moment he was ready to take the maddest of risks. He wanted to see Nance, to speak with her, to feel that they were conspiring together against De Rothan and the French.
The chance was nearer to him than he imagined. There was the click of a key turning in a lock, and the garden door opened, showing an oblong shadow in the moonlit wall. Some one was standing there in the shadow, and Jasper, caught in the full moonlight, laid a hand upon the pistol in his belt.
The figure in the doorway moved out into the moonlight. It was Nance. She had slipped on an old gown, and a pair of shoes, and come down, shivering, to brave the truth.
"Nance!"
She hung back a moment, and then came gliding out across the grass, the moonlight making a silver mist of her loosened hair. Mouth and eyes were round shadows.
"You! Is it you?"
She was so close now that Jasper could see the moonlight in her eyes. The pupils were large and black, and swimming with a kind of fear.
"Was it you I heard?"
"No. De Rothan and your father."
"Where are they?"
"They have gone round to the back. I have something that I must tell you. And we may be seen here."
They stood looking into each other's eyes. The clatter of a horse's hoofs came from the lane, followed by the slamming of a door.
Nance started, and a shiver of excitement went through her.
"It is so light here, and we shall be heard—"
Jasper reached out, and caught her hand. She did not flinch or resist him.
"Quick! Down the steps."
They fled away, hand in hand, like a couple of children.