'We shall nab the whole lot,' said the officer. 'They may show fight, probably they will, as they are numerous and desperate, because we have hemmed them in so close of late that they have not been able to free their goods. We have watched Lyme so closely that there has been no chance for them to run a cargo there. It all goes into that d――――d hole of Beer, which it is next to impossible to keep in your eye day and night. And with its freestone quarries and burrows into every hillside, there is a veritable underground labyrinth, in which could be stowed liquor enough to supply the toping squires and merchants of the west for a dozen years. There is no tracking them there, they are in at one rat-hole and out at another, and verily, the Creator seems to have had smugglers in view when this coast was called up. But we shall draw the net on them this time and bag every Jack with their cargoes. I have sent for the military; there will be too many for us unaided to tackle. They purpose bringing kegs and bales to Heathfield Cross on Thursday night, and wagons will be in waiting to load them for Honiton, Lyme, and Dorchester. They will cross at the creek over against Hawkes-down, slip through Axmouth, then up the hollow way, and so to the Cross. I have made my arrangements to catch them whilst lading the conveyances, and if they smell us and drop their goods and run, the military will close up the roads in rear, and they will have no way of escape save that of plunging over the cliffs and perishing in the waters like the swine in the country of the Gadarenes. They will not do that; better be nailed and made to serve in His Majesty's navy than break their necks.' 'High time we should catch them,' said the man. 'They have grown saucy.' 'They have grown desperate,' retorted the officer. 'They have been accumulating cargoes, and have been unable to dispose of them. Now they must do it――and so――――' He snapped his hands. 'It is no fault of ours,' observed the underling, 'if they have been able to run in such a lot. It is this coast does it. That of Cornwall is bad, but nothing to this. The chalk and the channel are against us. Smooth seas and fogs and a coast as full of holes as a hedge beside a warren――what can be done?' 'Well,' said the officer, 'keep your counsel now. Do not trust even your own men. Some of them may have been tampered with――stranger things than that have happened.' 'Well, sir, I suppose they have leaky vessels among them.' 'To be sure they have. Were it not so, I should not have been forewarned of this.' 'You can rely on me, sir.' 'I know I can.' And the men walked away. Winefred heard no more, owing to the grinding of the pebbles under their feet, but she had heard sufficient. It was as she had surmised. She had been employed to convey a message connected with a smuggling enterprise, and the secret had been betrayed by one of the confederates.