“Where in hell is Jack?” raged the excited conspirator, swallowing half the contents of his brandy flask. As he returned it, the butts of his two revolvers and the handle of a huge couteau de chasse were plainly visible. “The fiends seem to be let loose to-day,” he growled. “It would be the night of all nights! Ha!” The discharged officer noted two men in sou’westers and oilskins now toiling up the path. And his heart leaped up in a wild joy.
In another moment, he half dragged his drenched companions into the weather-worn cave. “What news?” he hoarsely demanded of Blunt, as he extended his flask.
“The best of all news,” cheerily replied the mobs-man. “Here is Antoine. He raced down from St. Heliers, in a covered fly, and has brought the very latest news from Fort Regent. The Stella has lost the tide, cannot enter, and has, therefore, turned south, running down the channel. She can not dare to enter St. Heliers now till between ten and eleven to-night. Of course, she will not put back to Southampton, in the teeth of this southwest gale, the very heaviest known for twenty years. She has signaled the ‘Corbieres,’ and they have telegraphed over to the office at the pier. There’s Mattie Jones’s telegram. The three we want are on board, sure enough. And, thank God! the Hirondelle is riding safe and easy around the point. It’s the one night of a million for my job and for yours.”
“What’s your final plan? We must get out of here soon,” growled Hawke, shaking off the pouring rain like a burly water dog. “I have my two men already watching the little gardener’s hut in the Tropical Gardens, where I hid my cracksman’s outfit. Old Simpson is boozing away down at the Jersey Arms. I heard him tell pretty Ann, the barmaid, that he would have to be home by midnight, for the ‘old man’ would surely arrive in the morning. Now, will you stay here with this man, and ‘do up’ old Simpson? Mind you, there must be no stab or bullet wound. The ‘life preserver,’ and, then over with him! They will only think that rum and the fall did the business.
“I will make straight for the Hirondelle when I am done, and send a man to report to you at the old martello tower, where your gang are to meet you. This man can get over to the boat now and warn them to show up, carefully, one by one, and hide around there till dark. Not in the tower itself, for some of the coast-guard roundsmen might take shelter there and pitch into them for smugglers. I’ll stay here till he comes back. If old Simpson should come along too early, why, you and I could hide him away here till it is dark enough to throw him over. And you’ll surely catch old Fraser and the two women on the road between eleven and two. It will take over an hour to drive from the pier in this weather.
“All right!” sternly said Hawke. “Send your man right away. I will tell them what to do later, when I meet them. Let him send the boatswain and two men to meet us here, and wait and hide with the others around the tower. I will hunt in the bushes till I run on them. Stay! He can come back here to me with the three!”
It was already dark when the four men returned to where Alan Hawke lay perdu with his murderous mate. Not a light was now to be seen but the one glimmer below in the “Public,” on the Rozel pier. And the very last words had been spoken between “Gentleman Jack Blunt” and his crafty employer. “Now, remember,” said Jack, “Antoine here goes down with orders to come up the cliff ahead of old Simpson. You’ll surely be warned of his approach. You can give the boatswain his orders; there’ll be three to one. Your man leads you to your men at the tower. And I am to crack that crib and make for the Hirondelle!
“If chased, the boat runs out to sea, and you are both only honest, French fishermen storm-driven ashore in search of supplies!”
“That’s it, Jack! You are to wait for me, if the house is not alarmed. I’ll bring some ‘passengers,’ perhaps, on board. If I fail, you are just to run for Granville. We will all meet at Etienne’s. I’ve got money to take care of all my men. You are to make no miss. I can wait and try again if I am disappointed. I’ll take no chances. With your success, I can hold the old miser down, and your two thousand pounds is safe; besides, the swag is your security. You see, he will never dare to make any public outcry, for he secretly fears the Government! We take only the safest chances. He may stay down there all night at St. Heliers, and your lucky chance will never come again. Go ahead, and do not fail!”
The two men grasped hands in an excited clinch. “Do up Simpson for a dead man, and no mistake!” hoarsely whispered Jack Blunt.