“Well, no odds. I’ll carry one and you the t’other. We’ll make two journeys, that’s all. I can’t leave Neddy for long, but I’ll go with you to your house-door.”
Probably the person addressed nodded a reply in the darkness; he made no audible answer.
“Which is it, Mr. Obadiah, rum or brandy?”
“Brandy.”
“Right you are, then. These are brandy. You won’t take three brandies and one rum?”
“Yes.”
“All right, sir; lead the way. It’s deuced dark.”
Judith knew what this signified. Some of the householders of Wadebridge were taking in their supplies of spirits from the smugglers. Owing to the inconvenience of it being unlawful to deal with these men for such goods, they had to receive their purchases at night, and with much secrecy. There were watchmen at Wadebridge, but on such nights they judiciously patrolled another quarter of the town than that which received its supplies. The watchmen were municipal officials, and were not connected with the excise, had no particular regard for the inland revenue, anyhow, owed no duties to the officers of the coast-guard. Their superior was the mayor, and the mayor was fond of buying his spirits at the cheapest market.
Both men disappeared. The door was left open behind them. The opportunity Judith had desired had come. Dare she seize it? For a moment she questioned her heart, then she resolutely stepped out of the shadow of the Portugal laurel, brushed past the patient ass, entered the grounds of Mr. Scantlebray’s establishment through the open garden-door, and drew behind a syringa bush to consider what further step she should take. In another moment both men were back.
“You are sure you don’t mind one rum?”