“What about?” snarled Eben.
“Yes; I don’t understand you. I say, Eben, have you escaped?”
The man glared at him, and the look which met his—a look full of enquiry and perfectly fearless—seemed to disarm him somewhat.
“No,” he said, “I won’t think it was your doing, my lad.”
“What?” asked Aleck.
“Putting the gang on to us the other night.”
“Mine? No; I was fast asleep in bed when the shots woke me, and I went up the cliff to see.”
“Ah! I s’pose so,” said the smuggler, in a hoarse whisper. “I’ve escaped for a bit, but they’re after me. I s’pose they felt I should come back to the missus. I say,” he continued, eagerly, “is she all right, Master Aleck?”
“Yes. I’ve seen her two or three times right up the cliff.”
“What for?” said the smuggler, sharply, and his eyes glittered fiercely again.