It appeared to Stanley, on the way home that morning, that the conversation flagged somewhat. He therefore set to himself the task of reviving it. “Christian,” he began conversationally, “is there any smuggling done now? Real smuggling, I mean.” “No, I think not,” replied Christian. He evidently did not look upon smuggling as a fruitful topic at that moment. “Why do you ask?” interposed Hilda goodnaturedly. “Well, I was just wondering,” replied the boy. “It struck me yesterday that our boat had been moved.” “But,” suggested Christian, “it should be very easy to see whether it has been dragged over the sand or not.” “Three strong men could carry it bodily into the water and make no marks whatever on the sand,” argued little Stanley, determined not to be cheated out of his smugglers. “Perhaps some one has been out for a row for his own pleasure and enjoyment,” suggested Christian, without thinking much of what he was saying. “Then how did he get the padlock open?” “Smugglers, I suppose,” said Hilda, smiling down at her small brother, “would be provided with skeleton keys.” “Of course,” replied Stanley in an awestruck tone. “I will tell you what we will do, Stanley,” said Christian. “To-morrow morning we will go and have a bathe; at the same time I will look at the boat and tell you whether it has been moved.” “Unless,” added Hilda, “a telegram comes today.” Christian laughed. “Unless,” he said gravely, “the world comes to an end this evening.” It happened during the precise moments occupied by this conversation, that Mr. Bodery, seated at his table in the little editor's room, opened the flimsy brown envelope of a telegram. He spread out the pink paper, and Mr. Morgan, seated opposite, raised his head from the closely-written sheets upon which his hand was resting. “It is from Vellacott,” said the editor, and after a moment's thought he read aloud as follows:-- “Letter and papers received; believe I have dropped into the clue of the whole affair. Will write particulars.” Mr. Morgan caressed his heavy moustache with the end of his penholder. “That young man,” he said, “goes about the world with his eyes remarkably wide open, ha-ha!” Mr. Bodery rolled the telegram out flat with his pencil silently. * * * * * Stanley Carew was so anxious that the inspection of the boat should not be delayed, that an expedition to the Cove was arranged for the same afternoon. Accordingly the five young people walked across the bleak tableland together. Huge white clouds were rolling up from the south-west, obscuring every now and then the burning sun. A gentle breeze blew gaily across the bleak upland--a very different breath from that which twisted and gnarled the strong Scotch firs in winter-time. “You would not care about climbing _down_ there, I should think,” observed Sidney, when they had reached the Cove. “It is a very different matter getting up.”