"The tide makes until five o'clock."
"Until five-twenty, to be correct. Before seven o'clock they will be launched."
"You play a bold game, dear friend. Suppose, now, that Smellie had kept the cutter cruising off the coast?"
The Major smiled again, this time with finesse. "The man is ambitious, I tell you. By employing the cutter he might indeed have intercepted the cargo. But he flies at higher game." Here the Major lightly tapped his chest to indicate the quarry. "In generalship, my dear doctor, to achieve anything like the highest success, you must fight with two heads—your own and your adversary's. By putting myself in Smellie's place; by descending (if I may so say) into the depths of his animal intelligence, by interpreting his hopes, his ambitions… well, in short, I believe we have weathered the risk. The Mevagissey fleet puts out to the grounds to-night, to anchor and drop nets as usual. With them our friends from Guernsey—shall we say?—will mingle as soon as night is fallen, hang out their riding-lights, lower their nets, and generally behave in a fashion indistinguishable from that of other harvesters of the sea, until the hour when, with lightened hulls and, I trust, in full regimentals (for they carry their uniforms on board) they join us for the Grand Assault."
"But—excuse me—how much does the town know of this programme?"
The Major shrugged his shoulders. "As little as I could manage. I have incurred some brief unpopularity, no doubt, among the fairer portion of our community, who deem that I am denying them their annual May-day jaunt. But never fear. I will explain all to-night, before embarkation."
"They may murmur," answered Dr. Hansombody, "but in their hearts they trust you."
The Major's eyes filled with tears.
"The path of duty is strewn with more than roses at times. I thank you for that assurance, my friend."
They grasped hands in silence.