"I don't know that Mr. Ambrose even would fathom them," she said. "But I have discovered one thing, Blair," and she laughed softly.
"What's that, dear?" he asked.
"Why, that smuggling is not the extinct profession it is generally considered to be!"
"Smuggling!" he exclaimed incredulously.
"Yes," said Margaret. "I am certain that it is carried on here, and I have a shrewd suspicion that the landlord, Mr. Day, is engaged in it."
"Nonsense, Madge!" he said. "What a romantic child it is!"
"But my romance lies within reach of my hand," she murmured, touching his lips with her forefinger and receiving the inevitable kiss. "But I am sure of it. On Thursday night—do you remember how it blew?—no, you were fast asleep! Well, the wind woke me, and I went to the window to close it. And as I stood there I heard Day and his son talking outside. They, of course, thought themselves unheard, or they wouldn't have spoken so loudly."
"And what did they say?" Blair asked, smiling.
"I did not hear all of their talk, but I caught some of it. There were words spoken about 'kegs' and 'brandy' and 'tobacco.' That I am sure of."