“Very well. But, by the way,” I asked, “what was that cargo you landed at home? Was it curios?”
“Of course it wasn’t,” Edmund said, contemptuously.
“I hope it was not more of this wretched stuff?”
“No, sir,” said Welfare, “there would have been no use leaving that in England. That was ordinary old-fashioned smuggling. Brandy and cigars as a matter of fact. It’s done still from the Channel Islands when a chance occurs, and of course the Astarte was a chance. We had meant to get the stuff through the Customs along with our straight cargo somehow, but we had difficulties at Tilbury. Then this tunnel of yours cropped up, sir. It made the whole thing so easy we were going back to Guernsey for more. Only this hashish business got in the way, and we learned there was a warrant out for Jakoub. Well, if they’d got the Astarte then, the whole thing would have come out. That was why our agents sent to warn us. Getting the Astarte back here without arrest was a fair masterpiece! But, by the Lord Harry! it was anxious work. You’ve little idea what I went through, sir. And the course we steered—oh, my Lord!”
“Life was worth living for the time,” said Edmund. “I often felt sorry you were missing all the fun of the gamble!”
“Of course you knew all about this smuggling at home, Edmund?”
“Of course! Don’t make any mistake about that. I was in it for all the money I could put up at the time.”
I sighed. The whole business was so very sordid. But after all, brandy and cigars were not going to poison anybody. The whole thing was stopped now, and in face of the horrible traffic I had circumvented, I was not going to break my heart over his Majesty’s Customs Duties.
“Well, gentlemen,” I said, “our business now is to get this load back on the Astarte. The sooner it’s done the better. I suppose we’re all agreed to get it away as suggested?”
“I agree as there ain’t any other way.”