This person was the Nancy mentioned by Alice in her conversation with Lilly.  Her original name had been Nancy Dawson, but she had married one of the smugglers, of the name of Corbett.  Her original profession, previous to her marriage, we will not dwell upon; suffice it to say, that she was the most celebrated person of that class in Portsmouth, both for her talent and extreme beauty.  Had she lived in the days of King Charles II., and had he seen her, she would have been more renowned than ever was Eleanor Gwynne; even as it was, she had been celebrated in a song, which has not been lost to posterity.  After a few years of dissipated life, Nancy reformed, and became an honest woman, and an honest wife.  By her marriage with the smuggler, she had become one of the fraternity, and had taken up her abode in the cave, which she was not sorry to do, as she had become too famous at Portsmouth to remain there as a married woman.  Still she occasionally made her appearance, and to a certain degree kept up her old acquaintances, that she might discover what was going on—­very necessary information for the smugglers.  She would laugh, and joke, and have her repartee as usual, but in other points she was truly reformed.  Her acquaintance was so general, and she was such a favourite, that she was of the greatest use to the band, and was always sent over to Portsmouth when her services were required.  It was supposed there, for she had reported it, that she had retired to the Isle of Wight, and lived there with her husband, who was a pilot, and that she came over to Portsmouth occasionally, to inquire after her old friends, and upon business.

“Nancy Corbett, I must speak to you,” said Alice.  “Come aside:  I wish you, Nancy, to go over immediately.  Can you go up, do you think, without being perceived?”

“Yes, Mistress Alice, provided there is no one to see me.”

“The case is so important, that we must run the risk.”

“We’ve run cargoes of more value than that.”

“But still you must use discretion, Nancy.”

“That’s a commodity that I’ve not been very well provided with through life; but I have my wits in its stead.”

“Then you must use your wit, Nancy.”

“It’s like an old knife, well worn, but all the sharper.”

Alice then entered into a detail of what she would find out, and gave her instructions to Nancy.  The first point was, to ascertain whether it was the cutter which had received the information; the second, who the informer was.

Nancy, having received her orders, tied the strings of her bonnet, caught up a handful of the victuals which were at the fire, and bidding the others a laughing good-bye, with her mouth full, and one hand also occupied, descended the ladder, previously to mounting the cliff.

“Nancy,” said Lilly, who stood by the ladder, “bring me some pens.”

“Yes, dear; will you have them alive, or dead?”