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"Lord, lord," he said.  "So we've quit the service, have we?  Two proper long-togs, who could use a wash and wigs.  By the walks, you've got sore arses, too.  Have you ridden far?"

As they sat he called a boy across, for coffee cups and plates and irons.  He was beaming, in a fine good humour.  They mumbled pleasantries, but he brushed off their apologetics.

"I did not thank you, friends, before you left the other night," he said.  "Rude oversight but you will bear with me I hope.  It is not every day one lands to be arrested!  That gallows lawyer, and Oxforde who strikes as a cadaver!  You stood up to the questions like a pair of Trojans, and you saw them off most capitally.  My deep appreciation, sirs."

That was not as they remembered it, but never mind.  For whatever reason and there would be reason, surely it appeared their task might not be so hard at all, leastways not in the broaching and the explication.  Their cups were filled, and the waiter brought an enormous plate of new hot rolls, with butter.  Will took his cue from Sam, whose actions matched his landsman clothes legs stretched, back arched outwards to ease the aches, and crunching like a lawyer's clerk. If Kaye intended to be pleasant for a change, then hallelujah, let's have some of that!

He told them, in the next few minutes, that he'd had more information about their 'strange activities' and knew, at least while Biter stayed in the dockyard, he was at liberty to let them have their heads.  He did not wish to pry, but might he know if they had 'further jaunts' in view, and if he might be, somehow, of any small assistance?

Considering the trepidation they had lived with, they found this almost laughable in a heady sort of way but not an opportunity that they should overlook.  They did not know how much of the secret business of Yorke and Warren he'd been told, but could see no harm at all in outlining in general terms the problems and opportunities they must soon be facing on an East Sussex beach, with the implication that they must have help to be successful, and he was perhaps the man to give it them.  Sam laid it on quite thick, with Will adding some telling points, but afterwards they both agreed that someone, most likely Bobby Beaumont through a messenger, had laid it thicker that Kaye could bear a hand in anything they could convince him on.  Straight orders to this effect, they deemed, were rank impossible backs must be covered, the niceties of rank and custom faithfully observed but he had clearly been opened to persuasion that the game could be a worthwhile one.  Indeed, Sam's exposition of the kudos to be gained by breaking up not one but two notorious free trade bands and underneath the noses of the Customs House made the slightly bulging eyes go positively bright.

"Well," he said, when they had finished.  "This is most fascinating, it makes me positively hungry!  You say the Customs lords have given you their blessing?  You may tread on corns with gay abandon and impunity? Well, capital indeed!"

"But not just us," Bentley interjected.  "The agreement is between them and Lord Wodderley, the Customs and the Royal Navy.  We may cross boundaries for the ... ah, the common good.  For you, sir, as the captain of the Biter, it could be a splendid opportunity. It is not just the common smuggler we could take and destroy, that's the gallant est  The men behind them, the men of capital, the most un-common rogues!  We could strike a blow against the trade along the South Coast from which they might not recover; ever!"

Something moved behind Kaye's eyes at this point, but Sam's hearty laughter made the moment light.

"Don't tear the arse out, Will!"  he said.  "We are not demigods, success we get is like to be more commonplace.  But sir, Lieutenant Kaye, almost sure some good would come of it.  Men taken and some of them for pressing, surely illicit trade disrupted, goods recovered, maybe some pay-off cash.  To play the cynic, the part their lordships will thank us for the most they won't make public, but they won't forget it in the future, I'd make bold to hope: our friends the Customs shown up for fools, missing an opportunity.  Which," he added, chuckling, 'we shan not offer them to start with, poor unfortunates!"

"We'd need a damn good force, I reckon," said Kaye, when the amusement had been let to fade.  "And arms in plenty.  God, it would be more a landing party on a foreign fort.  We could anchor off, and land in boats, and go in with cutlasses and muskets blazing.  Perhaps a few rounds of grape before we hit the beach, to show them we meant business.  Ach, we're running on too fast!  We do not even know exactly where or when yet, do we?  No, I thought not.  And the ship is stuck in Deptford, one mast stripped.  We're running on like foolish boys.  You know that yard, or Mr.  Holt does at any rate.  A two-day job could take them months."

He was blowing cool, before their eyes.  Sam dropped forward in his chair, more businesslike, and raised a hand.

"Urgency would give you extra clout, sir, down at Deptford.  Perhaps a mention of Lord Wodderley?  If they knew he had an interest?"

"Aye, I know how to suck eggs, sir."  Kaye waved a hand.  "More importantly is times and places.  I cannot say I will or nay until I know the business to the bottom, can I?  How quickly can I have these things?  How certain can I gauge the opposition?  It is a story only at the minute; you must convince me, must you not?  Great heavens, if it was true in black and white just as you tell it, you'd go to Wodderley out of hand and ask him for a line o' battleship.  I need information; hard."

"You shall have it, sir," said Sam.  "My word on that.  Mr.  Bentley rides this very morning to get exact locations and the day and hour.  I go to the East Sussex coast to reconnoitre, if you'll excuse the French."  Significantly he added, "We are well supplied with cash and helpers, sir.  But we do, of course, need your permission."

He granted it immediately so much for the imagined difficulties although in truth Will hardly heard the words.  So, he went this very forenoon, did he?  Thanks indeed, Sam Holt!  Jesu, he was weary, but never mind.  Slack Dickie, for once, was fired up, and such an opportunity must not be missed.  He would set out for Hampshire as soon as he could get a proper shave and change his horse.  The shore-base clothes, though draggled, would serve him for another trip if need be; in any way he could go and see Sir A, nay, absolutely must.  He thought of the attackers of the night before and had a flutter in his guts, of apprehension.  No reason, though, for them to lurk outside Langham Lodge for ever.

The words "French woman' caught his ear, snapping him back to the parlour room.  Sam was being questioned, but was being circumspect.  On the smuggling of prisoners and its supposed importance they had had their differences, and they'd agreed to leave the matter out of conversation, at least until they'd done the job in hand.  Kaye had neither the scruples nor, to be fair to him, the knowledge that it was a thorny point.

"Well then?  D'st think the move is imminent?  Have you heard aught of her again?  Have you a name?  Surely she is of the party you have known?"

Sam was fiddling with a butter knife.

"We've heard no more than I've told already, sir.  Quite honestly, it does not seem of interest to the band.  They see it as another branch of commerce, no better and no worse."

"Pshaw!"  went Kaye.  "That is the measure of them, truly!  God, such filthy scum, to sell their nation like a poacher's coney!  Look, I charge you: while on your travels on the Sussex coast, wherever.  Find out about this ill venture, if you can.  You also, Mr.  Bentley, can you do that for me?  You'll be nearer to the "source", perhaps?"