"Send him round. Wait, though, I'll come myself. Where did you leave him, Jack?"
"In the yard."
Jasper found Tom Stook sitting on the horse-block and tickling himself pensively with a straw. His brown face remained shy and stolid when he saw Jasper. He stood up, slouching his shoulders, the straw tucked away in one corner of his mouth.
"Well, Tom, what is it?"
Stook surveyed the yard, and scrutinised the kitchen windows with sneering suspiciousness.
"Them turmit-flies o' wenches; always poppin' about. Maybe, sir, you might like to see them signal lights at Stonehanger. I wouldn't be for promising, but I have my sense o' smell. They say that Mounseer Jerome be comin' ashore to-night."
"The smuggling rogue! How do you know, Tom?"
Stook grinned, and looked expressively at Jasper.
"Maybe a little bird dropped ut down t' chimney. Maybe there'll be kegs on t' beach. It be'unt no business o' mine, but you can see Stonehanger from my cottage."
"So these devils of smugglers play two games. They ought to sink Jerome and his boat. Tom, you've got some sense."