said, with a terrible
imprecation. "The scoundrel has heard what we've said, and our lives
won't be worth a minute's purchase if he were to be let free. Stand by
and I'll knock out his brains;" and he seized a heavy poker from the
side of the hearth.

"No, no," the Frenchman said, "don't let us have blood. Zere might be
inquiries, and zese sings will sometimes be found. Better take him to
sea wis you in ze _Lucy_, and hand him over to ze _Chasse Maree_. Zey
will take care zat he does not come back again."

"I will take care myself," the smuggler said. "I'm not going to risk
my neck on the chance of his blabbing. It's better, as you say, to
have no blood, but as soon as the _Lucy's_ at sea overboard he goes."

"We can talk of it," the Frenchman said. "I'm wis you zat he must be
silenced, but it may be better--my plan zan yours. Zis boy belongs, I
suppose, to ze village?"

"Yes," the smuggler said, "I know him by sight. He's the son of an
old man-of-war's man who lives half a mile away."

"Well, you see, some of your men might some day, if they quarreled wis
you, or in zeir drink, drop some words which might lead to inquiries.
Better put him on board ze _Chasse Maree_. I will see ze matter is
settled."

Harry had spoken no word from the time he was grasped. He felt in an
instant that his life was forfeited, and was surprised that he had not
been instantly killed. He had not raised his voice to hallo, for he
knew that no cottagers were near, and was sure that an attempt to give
the alarm would insure his instant death. To struggle would have been
useless. He was unarmed, and although a stout lad, was but a child in
the grasp of a powerful man like the smuggler. He saw, too, that on
the instant the Frenchman had drawn a dagger from his breast, and
though more quiet than the smuggler he felt by the tone of his voice
that he was as determined as his colleague that his silence should be
secured by death.

In another minute he was bound and thrown into a corner. The Frenchman
then took his seat near him, assuring him in a low tone that he would
at his first movement plant his dagger in his heart. The smuggler
strolled off to summon his crew, and for a quarter of an hour silence
reigned in the cottage.

"You are one fool," the Frenchman said at last, as if he had been
thinking the matter over--"one meddlesome fool. Why you want to listen
at people's doors and learn zeir secrets? I don't want to kill you,
but what are