“Back!” whispered Oliver, sufficiently loud to be heard, and he dexterously threw the stone and the letter through the open window.
Next moment the casement was shut and the curtains were drawn.
He waited for full a quarter of an hour but no answer was returned.
CHAPTER XLIII.
THE SECOND TIME.
No sooner had Oliver thrown the stone with note tied round it into Judith’s room through the window, than he descended from a position which he esteemed too conspicuous should anyone happen to be about in the night near the house. He ensconced himself beneath the cow-shed wall in the shadow, where concealed, but was ready should the casement open to step forth and show himself.
He had not been there many minutes before he heard steps and voices, one of which he immediately recognized as that of Cruel Coppinger. Oliver had not been sufficiently long in the neighborhood to know the men in it by their voices, but looking round the corner of the wall he saw two figures against the horizon, one with hands in his pockets, and by the general slouch, he thought that he recognized the sexton of S. Enodoc.
“The Black Prince will be in before long,” said Coppinger. “I mean next week or fortnight, and I must have the goods shored here, this time. She will stand off Porth-leze, and mind you get information conveyed to the captain of the coast-guard that she will run her cargo there. Remember that. We must have a clear coast here. The stores are empty and must be refilled.”
“Yes, your honor.”
“You have furnished him with the key to the signals?”