"In a way, yes. But in case of miscarriage, the consequences must be more severe. I will own that you tempt me. The tubs, you say, would be ready slung." "Ready slung for carriage, man or horse, whichever you prefer, with ropes, stones and six anchors for sinking in case of emergency. We will allow for these if they are returned." "To tell the truth, since becoming chief magistrate of this borough, I have rather set my face against these operations. It has seemed to me more consonant. . . . And an operation on the scale you propose could not be conducted without some degree of--er--audacity." "It means a forced run," assented M. Dupin. "If, on reflection--" the Major hesitated. "Excuse me, but there is no time. For reasons of our own, my firm must clear the stuff before the end of April; that is why we offer it at the price. Three gross, with six ankers of the colouring stuff gratis--and the tubs ready slung. It must be 'yes' or 'no'; if you decline, then I have another customer on the string." "The end of April, you say?" The Major refilled his glass and mused, holding it up against the last gleam of daylight. "We could ship it on the 27th or 28th. The moon serves then. Say that you run it on the night of the 30th?" "Of the 30th?" echoed the Major. "But on that night, of all others, my hands are full. To begin with, we are half-expecting the Millennium." "The Millennium, _hein_?" echoed M. Dupin in his turn. "I do not know her." "It's not a boat," the Major explained. "It's a--well, in fact, we are not altogether sure what it may turn out to be. But, setting this aside, I am engaged to conduct a military operation on the night of the 30th." "_Hein_?" M. Dupin eyed his host with interest. "A counter-stroke to the First Consul--is that so?" "Well, not exactly a downright counter-stroke; although, if I had my way . . . but in fact (and I mention it in confidence, of course) our Artillery here is planning a surprise upon our neighbours of Looe, the descent to be made upon Talland Cove." M. Dupin set down his glass. "But I am in luck to-night!" said he. "You--I--we are all in luck!" "Forgive me, I do not see--" "Oh, decidedly, I am in very great luck! If only your neighbours of Looe--they, too, have a corps of Artillery, I suppose?" M. Dupin felt in his breast pocket and drew out a paper. "Quick! their officer's name?" "A Captain Pond commands them: Captain Aeneas Pond." "Pond? Pond? See now, and I have an introduction to him! And you have arranged to surprise him on the night of April 30th--and at Talland Cove--when there will be no moon! Oh, damgood!" "But even yet I do not see," the Major protested. "Not quite. For the moment you do not see, quite; but in a little while." M. Dupin leaned forward and tapped the Major's knee. "Your Artillery? You can count on them?" "To the death." "How many?" "Nine score, without reckoning uniforms or stretcher-bearers." "Stretcher-bearers?"