"O deeps, receive these objects vile,
Which nevermore mine eyes shall soil."
He went down to the edge of the sea and, taking a bottle in each hand, held them out at arms' length, while he began in his high-pitched voice,
"O deeps, receive these——"
He stopped. A small boy stood beside him, holding out at him the point of what in the semi-darkness Mr. Jones took to be a loaded rifle. William mistook his action in holding out the bottles.
"It's no good tryin' to drink it up," he said severely. "We've caught you smugglin'."
Mr. Percival Jones laughed nervously.
"My little man!" he said, "that's a very dangerous—er—thing for you to have! Suppose you hand it over to me, now, like a good little chap."
William recognised his voice.
"Fancy you bein' a smuggler all the time!" he said with righteous indignation in his voice.