“Why!” cried the Sea Lady. “Only about five weeks ago I saw quite near here——”
She stopped abruptly and caught Melville’s eye. He grasped her difficulty.
“In a paper?” he suggested.
“Yes, in a paper,” she said, seizing the rope he threw her.
“Well?” asked Chatteris.
“There is smuggling still,” said the Sea Lady, with an air of some one who decides not to tell an anecdote that is suddenly found to be half forgotten.
“There’s no doubt it happens,” said Chatteris, missing it all. “But it doesn’t appear in the electioneering. I certainly sha’n’t agitate for a faster revenue cutter. However things may be in that respect, I take the line that they are very well as they are. That’s my line, of course.” And he looked out to sea. The eyes of Melville and the Sea Lady had an intimate moment.
“There, you know, is just a specimen of the sort of thing we do,” said Chatteris. “Are you prepared to be as intricate as that?”
“Quite,” said the Sea Lady.
My cousin was reminded of an anecdote.