"Not like the Iron Duke," Challis interrupted. "Not like the Queen Elizabeth or the Lion. What about our 13.5 and 15-inch guns, sir?"
"Our guns are not much good against explosive mines and submarines," rejoined Mr. Croucher. "Look what the enemy have done already with their mines! Catchpole, here, can tell you about the loss of the Atreus. And now one of their submarines has sunk another cruiser—the Pathfinder. Didn't you read about it in the paper? They've got their spies everywhere, too. They know what we're doing as well as we know it ourselves! Spies, Challis? Why——" He lowered his voice as he glanced along the cliff to the turrets and gables of Sunnydene. "I've been watching that house," he went on, mysteriously. "It's supposed to be empty. No postman goes there, no trade-carts stop at the gate, no gardener looks after the grounds. And yet, only yesterday there was smoke from one of the chimneys—puffs of white smoke, long and short. What was the meaning of it? Signals, Challis, signals!"
"Was there any ship passing, to take up the message, sir?" questioned Darby Catchpole.
Mr. Croucher looked at the boy severely.
"Do you think they'd make signals to seagulls?" he asked. "Of course, there were ships—plenty of them—tramps, coasting schooners, fishing boats. Any one of them might take a message over to Heligoland, telling secrets about the movements of our warships. The house is a perfect nest of spies, in the pay of the enemy. It's all very well for them to pretend to have gone away to Germany. But they haven't. Depend upon it they're living in some subterranean chamber, where they've stored arms and munitions of war, lying low there to join the enemy troops when they come over to murder us all. I tell you, we're doomed, Challis—doomed!"
"Strictly between ourselves," said Constable Challis, when the old man had gone beyond hearing, "I'm not so sure he isn't right about Sunnydene. Mrs. Daplin-Gennery declares she's seen Herr Hilliger prowlin' around at night, likewise his son, Max, who's supposed to be drowned. And young Mark Redisham, who's a Sea Scout like yourself, has found out a thing or two in the pigeon-loft. Strictly between ourselves, I may tell you that we made a raid on the place a few nights ago. Somebody had been there in front of us, however, and cleared everything suspicious away. You may take it from me, as that somebody was either Herr Hilliger or his son."
Darby could have said something concerning his own suspicions of a message sent by pigeon post; but he knew that Constable Challis was a gossip, and he held his own counsel. Nevertheless, he thought it in some way his duty as a Sea Scout to keep an eye upon Sunnydene, and he seldom passed the house without glancing up at the windows and the chimneys to see if there were any sign of habitation.
He was beginning to be assured in his belief that there was no real foundation for further suspicion, when, returning one moonlight night along the cliff from the Alderwick Coastguard Station, he saw something which renewed all his doubts.
During his absence, several tramps and coasters had anchored for the night in the roads; for the coastwise navigation lights were not now lighted to guide ships on their way, and general traffic on the sea ceased after dusk.
Amongst other vessels lying in the fairway inside of Alderwick Knoll, one in particular attracted his notice. It was a foreign-looking ketch. The moon was not high, and he could see the vessel plainly outlined against the track of light across the waves.