I looked at him anxiously. He leaned to me, putting his hand on my leg.
"I own a lighter," said he: "she will be alongside of you at dusk. I have people of my own whom I can trust. The lighter will empty your hold and convey the lading to a ship chartered by me, arrived from the Black Sea on Sunday and lying in the Pool. The stuff can be sold from that ship as it is—"
"But the chests—the chests, Mason!"
"They shall be lowered into another boat, and taken ashore and put into a waggon that will be in waiting—I in it—and driven to my home."
I clapped him on the shoulder in a transport.
"Nobly schemed indeed!" I cried; "but have we nothing to fear from the Customs people?"
"No, not low down the river and at dark. You bring up for convenience, d'ye see. Mind it is dark when you anchor. A lighter and boat shall be awaiting you. It is down the river, you know, that all the lumpers drop with the lighters they go adrift in from ships' sides. There's more safety in smuggling over Thames mud than on this coast shingle. One thought more: you say that Wilkinson believes the chests hold small-arms?"
"Yes."
"Then account to him for sending the chests away separately by saying that I have found a purchaser, and that they are going to him direct. You have your cue—you see all!"
"All."