“Do you come from Daniel Maidment?”
“Ah, I thought I should hear that name now. No; Dan’l ain’t a pertickler friend of mine.”
“What is your information?”
“My information is accordin’ to the information money.”
“And that again, as you must know, depends on the value of goods seized, and not on this alone. A full seizure reward cannot be earned without a good proportion of smugglers being captured. Twenty pounds for every smuggler taken, and full seizure money if the boat, as well as goods, be ours. Where is this intended run to be made?”
“On the night of the 18th, as soon after dusk as possible, at the Grey Rock, off Knapper’s Head.”
“And who are the chief smugglers concerned?”
“Obadiah Crumblejohn of the ‘Mariner’s Rest,’ Thurot, known as Lambkin, freighter and owner of the smuggling galley Lapwing, to row sixteen oars. Cargo, brandy and silks.”
The revenue officer made full notes, then he looked at Ratface as he stood blinking those restless eyes of his, scraping a lean cheek with his maimed hand.
The officer rang the bell, and the door was opened by a servant, who showed Ratface out.