“’Morning, Monseer Delorme.”

It was all too weird....

To add to this, the chief engineer paid Lanyard no further heed at all, though they were alone at table, and having noisily consumed his coffee, rubbed his stubbled lips and chin with an egg-stained napkin, rose, and without word or glance rolled heavily up the companionway.

The conduct of a careful man, accustomed to mind his eye.  And indisputably correct.  One never knew who might be watching, what slightest sign of secret understanding might not be seized upon and read.  Furthermore, Mr. Mussey had not stilled his mutter in the night until their joint and individual lines of action had been elaborately mapped out and agreed upon down to the smallest detail.  It now remained only for Lanyard to fill in somehow the waste time that lay between breakfast and the hour appointed, then take due advantage of the opportunity promised him.

He found the day making good Mr. Mussey’s forecast.  Under a dull, thick sky the sea ran in heavy swells, greasy and grey.  The wind was in the south, and light and shifty.  The horizon was vague.  Captain Monk, encountered on the quarterdeck, had an uneasy eye, and cursed the weather roundly when Lanyard made civil enquiry as to the outlook.  Ca va bien!

Lanyard killed an hour or two in the chartroom, acquainting himself with the coast they were approaching and tracing the Sybarite’s probable course toward the spot selected from the smuggling transaction.  His notion of the precise location of the owner’s estate was rather indefinite; he had gathered from gossip that it was on the Connecticut shore of Long Island Sound, between New London and New Haven, where a group of small islands—­also the property of Mister Whitaker Monk—­provided fair anchorage between Sound and shore as well as a good screen from offshore observation.

It was not vital to know more:  Lanyard had neither hope nor fear of ever seeing that harbour.  It was the approach alone that interested him; and when he had puzzled out that there were only two practicable courses for the Sybarite to take—­both bearing in a general north-westerly direction from Nantucket Shoals Light Vessel, one entering Block Island Sound from the east, between Point Judith and Block Island, the other entering the same body of water from the south, between Block Island and Montauk Point—­and had satisfied himself that manifold perils to navigation hedged about both courses, more especially their prolongation into Long Island Sound by way of The Race:  Lanyard told himself it would be strange indeed if his plans miscarried ... always providing that Mr. Mussey could be trusted to hold to his overnight agreement.

But as to that, one entertained few fears.  One felt quite sure that Mr. Mussey would perform duly to the letter of his covenant.  It had required only an hour of weighing and analysing with a clear head his overtures and utterances as a whole, to persuade Lanyard that he himself, no less than the chief engineer, in the phrase of the latter’s boast, “knew something.”