“Why, a tavern-keeper; and something more at times,” said the unknown. “You have taken notice, of course, what a fine stock of wines, spirits, tobacco, and other things he has?”
“Yes,” said Tim, “it has been the talk of the whole country wide, as long as I can remember.”
“Quite true; but he owes all his prosperity to me, young man,” said the gruff voice. “I could have blown him and his house up into the air many a time if I had thought proper. If he had divulged anything about our secret I would do so even now.”
Tim groaned.
“This place where you are now in is a cave,” said the voice; “a smuggler’s cave, mind you.”
“Oh, lors!”
“And I am chief of the gang. From this spot there is a long, dry passage, which runs out into the beach at low tide.”
“Is the mouth of the cavern filled with water, then, at high tide?”
“Yes, nearly so; but there is sufficient room for an eight-oared boat to float in if the rowers duck their heads.”
“How jolly convenient,” said Tim, who now began to like the chattiness of his unknown captor.