“Do you course your hares?” Hugo asked. “I’ve done a lot of that in the Peninsula.”

“No, we hunt them with harriers. You’ll soon see! The young hounds will be entered in a week or two. They hunt leverets at this season, of course: it teaches them their business,, but the real sport is after Christmas. Do you know, an old Jack will give you almost as good a run as a fox? The doe doubles and turns shorter, but a Jack will very likely travel a four or even five mile point.”

There was no more talk of wool or agriculture after that. As they rode gently along the track, Anthea let her mare drop behind a little, well aware that once two gentlemen were fairly launched into sporting-talk neither would have a word to spare for a mere female. She occasionally rode to hounds herself, but she was by no means hunting-mad, and descriptions of great runs, of the wiles by which hares would baffle hounds, of the rival merits of the big Sussex-bred hound, and the fast, rough-coated harrier, very soon bored her. She preferred to follow the gentlemen at her leisure, and to occupy herself with her own thoughts.

These were largely concerned with her new cousin. She found him baffling. At first sight, he had appeared to her to be stupid: an overgrown gapeseed, slow of speech, and short of wit; either too woodheaded to understand the malicious shafts that had been aimed at him, or too meek to resent them. When she had first taken up the cudgels in his defence, she had yielded to the promptings, not of pity for a humble creature unable to defend himself, but of exasperation. High-spirited herself, and never afraid to answer a challenge, it had vexed her that Hugo should allow Vincent to make a butt of him. Her swift retort had been intended to furnish him with an example; it had won no response from him: he had merely looked surprised; but just as she had decided that he was too blockish to be worth a thought, she had seen the twinkle in his eye, and had realized that however meek and yielding his disposition might be he was not lacking in intelligence. Her curiosity roused, she had been covertly studying him ever since. By the time she had conducted him through the picture-gallery she had revised her first opinion of his character, and given free room in her brain to the suspicion that her ox-like cousin had a strong (and possibly reprehensible) sense of humour. Final judgment was suspended, but of one thing there was no doubt: Major Darracott was as kind as he was good-tempered. As she rode behind him and Richmond, catching snatches of their talk, her heart warmed to him. In his place, Vincent, after a very short space of time, would have grown bored with the outpourings of a stripling; he would never have taken the trouble to draw Richmond out, as Hugo was doing. It would be no bad thing, Anthea thought, if Richmond were to transfer his allegiance from Vincent to Hugo. The Corinthian might prove dangerous to a worshipful young cousin; the Major, her instinct told her, could be trusted to do him no harm.

By the time she had arrived at this conclusion, the road that zig-zagged through the Marsh on its way to New Romney and Hythe had been reached. She called out laughingly: “Whoa there! How much farther do you mean to go in this direction, you wool-gatherers?”

They halted, and Hugo, turning Rufus about, walked him back a few paces to meet Anthea. He said, smilingly, as she came up to him: “We’ve been chewing the bacon so hard we forgot you! I’m sorry!”

His simplicity pleased her; she smiled back at him, saying: “Odious creatures! Do you wish to go on, or shall we turn back?”

“I’ll do as you bid me,” he replied. “Richmond has been telling me about his boat. He wants to show her to me, but he may do that another day.”

“No, why?” said Richmond. “I’ve got her beached only a mile from here. We have plenty of time to take a look at her.”

“Perhaps your sister’s tired,” suggested Hugo.

“Not she! Come along, Anthea!”

“Very well, but you’ll swear a solemn oath that you will only take a look! I know you!”

“Nonsense! I’ll just make sure all’s snug. We shan’t be late for dinner, if that’s what’s in your mind. Now, coz, over the ditch and into Sussex!”

He led the way at a brisk canter. The pastures were poor near the coast, with furze bushes growing out of the sand, and the grass giving place to marrams. The dunes were soon reached; the horses scrambled up, the sand sliding away under their hooves; and the sea (as it seemed to Hugo) burst suddenly into view.

Big Rufus, checking at the top of the path between two towering dunes, snorted, and put his ears forward, “Nay then!” the Major admonished him reproachfully. “Pluck up, lad! Tha’s seen the sea afore, think on!”

Anthea, already awaiting him on the shore, said, as the bay came slithering down the steep slope: “Ah, Yorkshirebred, I collect?”

He met her quizzical look with one of his most guileless stares. “Nay, it’s this road,” he explained confidentially. “He was nobbut a young ’un when I came by him, and a smattering of Spanish was all he knew. He learned his English from John Joseph, sithee!”

“I must make John Joseph’s acquaintance,” she said. “How useful he must be to you!”

He eyed her speculatively. “Ay, he is and-all!”

“I daresay he has been with you for a great many years?”

“Since I was a lad,” he corroborated.

“I thought as much. You’d be at a loss without him, wouldn’t you, cousin?”

There was a dancing mockery in her eyes, a lurking smile in his. Before he could reply, Richmond, who had been listening impatiently to this passage, said: “This is the place I told you about, Cousin Hugo. Look, you may see the stakes holding the nets quite plainly! The season’s drawing to a close now, but at its height, when they pull in the Keddle nets, the whole of the foreshore is covered with mackerel. But don’t let’s stand dawdling here! The Gap where I’ve got the Seamew beached is a little way along, towards Camber.”

“Lead on, then!” said Hugo. “It seems to me an unhandy place, though. How do you get to your boat?”

“I ride, of course: it’s a mile closer than Rye, you know.”

“What happens to your horse while you’re at sea?” asked Hugo, slightly mystified.

“Oh, I stable him in Camber! There’s an inn,” said Richmond briefly. “As a matter of fact, it’s handier for me to run the Seamew into Mackerel Gap during the summer, when I might want to take her out any day, because Jem Hordle lives at Camber. He’s my crew! When I have her moored in Rye harbour, someone must take a message to Jem before I can set sail: she’s too big for one man to sail.”

He had turned his head, to answer Hugo over his shoulder, but Anthea, looking ahead, said suddenly: “Good God, here comes that tiresome Preventive officer! I never knew anyone so ubiquitous! What on earth is he doing here, I wonder?”

“The Lord only knows!” replied Richmond, watching the approach of the Customs’ Riding-officer with disfavour.

“Well, for heaven’s sake be civil to the poor man!” she begged. “The last time I encountered him was when I was with Grandpapa, and he was so ill-advised as to accost us. He got so badly snubbed that I’m persuaded he thinks now that we are all of us in league with the free-traders.”

“I wish I had been there!” Richmond said, grinning.

“I would have yielded my place to you with pleasure. Grandpapa is never more embarrassing than when he becomes high in the instep. Good-day to you, Mr. Ottershaw!”

The Riding-officer, a rather tight-lipped young man, with eyes of a hard, shallow grey, pulled his horse up, and raised his hand in a stiff salute. “Good-day, ma’am.”

“Whither away, Lieutenant?” enquired Richmond. “Not looking for tubs amongst the sandhills, are you? I’ve never come upon any there!”

The Lieutenant replied in a flat tone that matched his rigid back and unsmiling countenance: “No, sir. I am riding to Lydd. I see you have your boat beached in Mackerel Gap.”

“Yes, I’m taking my cousin down to see her. Lieutenant Ottershaw—Major Darracott, of the 95th!”

“Sir!” said the Lieutenant, bringing his hand up again to the salute.

Hugo touched his hat in acknowledgment, and said, with a smile: “Land-guard?” The Lieutenant bowed slightly. “I’m told that’s no sinecure on this coast.”

“No, sir,” said the Lieutenant, with a good deal of emphasis. “But we may see a change presently!”

“Yes, you’ve established a famous blockade, haven’t you?” remarked Richmond. “What with Customs’ cruisers and Revenue cutters you should have the Channel swept clear before the year’s out.”

“The task of stamping out the illicit trade, sir, would be rendered easier if the rascals who engage in it met with less sympathy from those who live in these counties.”

“And if the duties were less extortionate there would be no trade to be stamped out!” retorted Richmond. “It’s all the fault of the Government—and a pretty set of leatherheads they are! The remedy is under their noses, but instead of cutting the duties they squander fortunes on Preventive measures.!”

“Nay, that’s no answer,” interposed Hugo. “The law may be daft, but it has to be obeyed.” He looked at Ottershaw, and said pleasantly: “I’m from the West Riding myself. They used to say there was plenty of smuggling went on at the ports, but I never knew much about it.”

“If it were only the ports!” said Ottershaw bitterly.

“Ay, you’ve a job on here, with the French coast so near. I wouldn’t want it—with the countryside hostile. I know what that means.”

“Why, were the Spaniards hostile?” asked Richmond. “I thought—”

“They weren’t hostile to us, but to the French they were.” He nodded at the Riding-officer. “What you need is a Division here, and I doubt if that would answer either. Myself, I’d say it was a job for the navy.”