Merriman was silent for a few moments, then burst out:
“Well, hang it all, man, what do you suggest?”
During the evening an idea had occurred to Hilliard and he returned to it now.
“I’ll tell you,” he answered slowly, and instinctively he lowered his voice. “I’ll tell you what we must do. We must see their steamer loaded. I’ve been thinking it over. We must see what, if anything, goes on board that boat beside pit-props.”
Merriman only grunted in reply, but Hilliard, realizing his condition, was satisfied.
And Merriman, lying awake that night on the port locker of the Swallow, began himself to realize his condition, and to understand that his whole future life and happiness lay between the dainty hands of Madeleine Coburn.
CHAPTER V.
THE VISIT OF THE “GIRONDIN”
Next morning found both the friends moody and engrossed with their own thoughts.
Merriman was lost in contemplation of the new factor which had come into his life. It was not the first time he had fancied himself in love. Like most men of his age he had had affairs of varying seriousness, which in due time had run their course and died a natural death. But this, he felt, was different. At last he believed he had met the one woman, and the idea thrilled him with awe and exultation, and filled his mind to the exclusion of all else.
Hilliard’s preoccupation was different. He was considering in detail his idea that if a close enough watch could be kept on the loading of the syndicate’s ship it would at least settle the smuggling question. He did not think that any article could be shipped in sufficient bulk to make the trade pay, unnoticed by a skilfully concealed observer. Even if the commodity were a liquid—brandy, for example—sent aboard through a flexible pipe, the thing would be seen.