With his next question he
seemed to have changed the subject.

"Where do you keep your boat now?"

"Renatus Warne has been putting in a new strake and painting her.
I shall have her down on the beach to-morrow."

"Ah, so that's it? I cast my eye over the beach this afternoon and
couldn't see her. You haven't been trying for the conger lately."

"We'll have a try to-morrow evening if you'll come, Sir. I wish you
would."

The Vicar, though he seldom found time for the sport, was a famous
fisherman. He shook his head; and then, leaning an arm on the table,
gazed at me with sudden seriousness.

"Look here: could you make it convenient to go fishing for conger this
next night or two--_and to go alone?_"

I saw that he had something more to say, and waited.

"The fact is," he went on after a glance towards the house, "I have a
ticklish job to carry through--the queerest in all my experience; and
unfortunately I want help as well as secrecy. After some perplexity
I've resolved to ask you: because, upon my word, you're the only person
I can ask. That doesn't sound flattering--eh? But it isn't your
fitness I doubt, or your nerve. I've hesitated because it isn't fair to
drag you into an affair which, I must warn you, runs counter to the law
in a small way."

I let out a low whistle. "A smuggling job?" I suggested.

"Good Heavens, boy! What do you take me for?"

"I beg your pardon, then. But when you talk of a row-boat--at night--a
job that wants secrecy--breaking the law--"

"I'll have to tell you the whole tale, I see: and it's only fair."

"Not a bit," said I stoutly. "Tell me what you want done and I'll do
it. Afterwards tell me your reasons, if you care to. Indeed, Sir, I'd
rather have it that way, if you don't mind. I was abominably
disrespectful this afternoon--"

"No more about _that_."

"But I _was_: and with your leave, Sir, that's the form of apology I'll
choose."

And I stood up with my hands in my pockets.

"Nonsense, nonsense," said the Vicar, eyeing me with a twinkle.
But I nodded back in the most determined manner.

"Your instructions, sir--that is, unless you prefer to get another
helper."

"But I cannot," pleaded he. "That's the mischief."

"Very well, then. Your instructions, please." And thus I had my way.

This happened on a Tuesday. The next evening I walked down to the Porth
and launched my boat. A row of idlers watched me from the long bench
under the life-boa