"So ye said afore. Thank 'ee. 'Tis atween us two, in course; my mouth is shet. But there's another thing, Maister. Did 'ee know as old Joe and young Dick brought a heap o' silks and satins out o' the old mine?"
"The deuce they did!" cried Trevanion in astonishment. "Where did they get them from?"
"That I can't say. But old mine do belong to 'ee, surely."
"It does. Whatever they have found is my property. How do you know this, Doubledick?"
"The little small birds, Maister. Well, I've telled 'ee for yer good."
"I'll not forget it. Egad, they shall hear from me."
When Doubledick left the house a few minutes later, he carried the bundle of crisp white notes snug in his breast-pocket. He said good-bye very cordially to his host, and, mounting his horse, rode boldly along the highway and down the hill to the inn.
Most of the smugglers had returned to their homes, but Tonkin, Nathan Pendry, and one or two more still remained in the inn-parlour, with their legs stretched out towards a genial fire, their long churchwarden pipes filling the room with clouds of smoke. Mrs. Doubledick had gone to bed. No other visitors were to be expected at this hour, and the company would let themselves out at their own time. The woman was torn between hope and fear. Tonkin had learnt in Roscoff that Doubledick had left with Delarousse; and Mrs. Doubledick was relieved to know that her husband had escaped the miseries of confinement in a French prison; but she was troubled lest he should fall into equally rigorous hands at home.
Doubledick entered the room quietly.
"Well, neighbours all," he said behind their backs, "a man's home be the fittiest place for un, I b'lieve."