The cabin of Tom Pearce, the boatman, was an ordinary fisherman's hut, built in the midst of white sand-hills, with a few willows planted on a little patch of made earth, and serving as protectors against the fierce summer blaze of the sun. The detective crept up to the cabin, and climbing upon a rear shed which served as a cover to several boats and a large quantity of nets, he covered himself with a fragment of old sailcloth, and secured a position from where, through a little opening which in the summer was left unclosed, he could see into the main room of the cottage. He could not only see, but could as readily overhear any conversation that might occur. Glancing into the room, he saw Tom Pearce, whom he had seen many times before on board several of the boats that sail over the bay. The fisherman, or rather smuggler, was seated before a table on which stood a ship's lamp, reading what appeared to be an old time-stained letter, and after an interval he muttered aloud: "Well, well, I don't know what to do! That girl is dear to my old heart, and I'd rather die than any harm should come to her; and again I don't like to stand in her way; while according to this letter from the old woman, written nigh on to thirteen years ago, I've no right to let her pass from my possession." The mutterings of the old man were interrupted by a loud rap at his rickety door. "Come in!" called the old smuggler. The door opened, and a roughly dressed man strode into the cabin. "Hello, Pearce! I see you are here to meet me." "Yes, Mr. Garcia, I'm waiting for you." Mr. Garcia took a seat by the table opposite the old smuggler, and saw the latter crumple the letter, and put it in his pocket. "Eh, old man, what's that your hiding?" "Nothing that will interest you, sir; it's only an old letter from my dead wife, sent to me many years ago when she was visiting some of her friends over in Connecticut." "How about this Government officer who has been prowling around here?" was the next question which fell from Garcia's lips. "Well, that's more than I can tell you, but he'll be fixed to-night, whoever he is! Yes, sir, he'll not cause the lads any trouble, they've 'tumbled' to him! too soon." "They've tumbled, eh?" "Yes; and they got up a false cruise to-night on purpose to carry him out to sea." "How was it the boys chanced to 'drop' to him?" "Renie did the business." "Renie did the business?" ejaculated the man. "Yes, sir; she went through him. She is a wonderful girl, she is, but I don't think she really meant to give the fellow away, but we caught her in a trap." "You caught her in a trap?" "Yes." "How?" "Well, she was sending a message to warn the detective of his danger, and the letter was intercepted, and so we got into the whole business. I tell you the fellows were mad, and had it been anybody but Renie they'd never have sent another message." "Does Renie know her letter was intercepted?" "I don't think she does."