Rangsley set one of his lanthorns on the window and twisted the top. He sent beams of yellow light shooting out to seawards. His hands quivered, and he was mumbling to himself under the influence of ungovernable excitement. His stakes were very large, and all depended on the flicker of those lanthorns out towards the men on the luggers that were hidden in the black expanse of the sea. Then he waited, and against the light of the window I could see him mopping his forehead with the sleeve of his coat; my heart began to beat softly and insistently--out of sympathy. Suddenly, from the deep shadow of the cloud above the sea, a yellow light flashed silently cut--very small, very distant, very short-lived. Rangsley heaved a deep sigh and slapped me heavily on the shoulder. “All serene, my buck,” he said; “now let’s see after you. I’ve half an hour. What’s the ship?” I was at a loss, but Carlos said out of the darkness, “The ship the _Thames_. My friend Señor Ortiz, of the Minories, said you would know.” “Oh, I know, I know,” Rangsley said softly; and, indeed, he did know all that was to be known about smuggling out of the southern counties of people who could no longer inhabit them. The trade was a survival of the days of Jacobite plots. “And it’s a hanging job, too. But it’s no affair of mine.” He stopped and reflected for an instant. I could feel Carlos’ eyes upon us, looking out of the thick darkness. A slight rustling came from the corner that hid Castro. “She passes down channel to-night, then?” Rangsley said. “With this wind you’ll want to be well out in the Bay at a quarter after eleven.” An abnormal scuffling, intermingled with snatches of jovial remonstrance, made itself heard from the bottom of the ladder. A voice called up through the hatch, “Here’s your uncle, Squahre Jack,” and a husky murmur corroborated. “Be you drunk again, you old sinner?” Rangsley asked. “Listen to me.... Here’s three men to be set aboard the _Thames_ at a quarter after eleven.” A grunt came in reply. Rangsley repeated slowly. The grunt answered again. “Here’s three men to be set aboard the _Thames_ at a quarter after eleven....” Rangsley said again. “Here’s... a-cop... three men to be set aboard _Thames_ at quarter after eleven,” a voice hiccoughed back to us. “Well, see you do it,” Rangsley said. “He’s as drunk as a king,” he commented to us; “but when you’ve said a thing three times, he remembers--hark to him.” The drunken voice from below kept up a constant babble of, “Three men to be set aboard _Thames_... three men to be set ...”