'There is word come from the shippers that we must take a cargo, for that they cannot keep the stuff by them longer at St. Malo. Now with this devil at the Manor prowling round, I dare not risk the job on Moonfleet beach, nor yet stow the liquor in the vault; so I have told the _Bonaventure_ to put her nose into this bay tomorrow afternoon that Maskew may see her well, and then to lie out again to sea, as she has done a hundred times before. But instead of waiting in the offing, she will make straight off up Channel to a little strip of shingle underneath Hoar Head.' I nodded to show I knew the place, and he went on--'Men used to choose that spot in good old times to beach a cargo before the passage to the vault was dug; and there is a worked-out quarry they called Pyegrove's Hole, not too far off up the down, and choked with brambles, where we can find shelter for a hundred kegs. So we'll be under Hoar Head at five tomorrow morn with the pack-horses. I wish we could be earlier, for the sun rises thereabout, but the tide will not serve before.' It was at that moment that I felt a cold touch on my shoulders, as of the fresh air from outside, and thought beside I had a whiff of salt seaweed from the beach. So round I looked to see if door or window stood ajar. The window was tight enough, and shuttered to boot, but the door was not to be seen plainly for a wooden screen, which parted it from the parlour, and was meant to keep off draughts. Yet I could just see a top corner of the door above the screen and thought it was not fast. So up I got to shut it, for the nights were cold; but coming round the corner of the screen found that 'twas closed, and yet I could have sworn I saw the latch fall to its place as I walked towards it. Then I dashed forward, and in a trice had the door open, and was in the street. But the night was moonless and black, and I neither saw nor heard aught stirring, save the gentle sea-wash on Moonfleet beach beyond the salt meadows. Elzevir looked at me uneasily as I came back. 'What ails thee, boy?' said he. 'I thought I heard someone at the door,' I answered; 'did you not feel a cold wind as if it was open?' 'It is but the night is sharp, the spring sets in very chill; slip the bolt, and sit down again,' and he flung a fresh log on the fire, that sent a cloud of sparks crackling up the chimney and out into the room. 'Elzevir,' I said, 'I think there was one listening at the door, and there may be others in the house, so before we sit again let us take candle and go through the rooms to make sure none are prying on us.' He laughed and said, ''Twas but the wind that blew the door open,' but that I might do as I pleased. So I lit another candle, and was for starting on my search; but he cried, 'Nay, thou shalt not go alone'; and so we went all round the house together, and found not so much as a mouse stirring.