“See—see what?” said the rough, fisherman-like fellow, sharply.
“See why Ness Dunning was so anxious that I shouldn’t come along the cliff this side.”
“Ness Dunning?” cried the man, scowling. “What did he say?”
“That I’d better go the other way. Behaved just like a silly plover which wants to prove to you that it has no nest on the moor, and sets you looking for it.”
“Ness Dunning’s an old fool,” cried the man, fiercely.
“Yes, he is a thick-headed old noodle, Eben; I wouldn’t trust him.”
“Then because he did that he made you think there was something hid somewhere and come to hunt for it, did you?” cried the man, angrily.
“No, I didn’t think anything of the kind till just this minute, but I see now. You’re not much wiser than old Ness, Eben, for you’ve been trying to throw me off the scent too, and now I know as well as if I could see it that you people have been running a cargo, and you’ve got it hidden in one of the caves or sunk in one of the holes.”
“What yer talking about?”
“Smuggled goods, Eben. I could find it if I tried now.”