Chapter Nineteen.
Captain Lawrence listened with knitted brows to his nephew’s narration of all that had taken place in the night, and shook his head.
“It’s miserable work, my boy,” he said; “so piteous for the poor women. Well, perhaps good will come out of evil, and it may be the breaking up of a notorious smuggling gang.”
It was just as Aleck was finishing his third cup of coffee, which he set down sharply in the saucer, startled by the sudden rush of the gardener to the open window, through which he thrust his head without ceremony.
“Here’s—” he began, excitedly. “Oh!”
For a big heavy hand appeared upon his shoulder, clutching him hard and snatching him away.
“What is the meaning of this, boy?” cried the captain.
Aleck’s head was already out of the window, and he drew it back again to answer: