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repeated.
    “Yes, it changed last autumn after a particularly savage storm. The Légère is a large, deep-drafted vessel, and even with exact knowledge could only negotiate the approach with a foot or so to spare. But there isn’t another landing place anywhere along this part of the coast, so she had no choice if she wanted to put men ashore.”
    Kit’s hand crept to the hilt of his sword and his knuckles gleamed white with anger. “Damned Frenchies!” he said darkly, and Rowley growled, for all the world as if sharing the sentiment.
    Henrietta was puzzled about the whole incident. “I can’t understand why this is the first I’ve heard of this.”
    “We didn’t want to alarm our guests, so the servants were instructed not to mention it.”
    Henrietta detected something odd about the whole business. “Charlotte, I’ve already confided in you tonight, so now it’s your turn. What is the real reason nothing has been said?”
    “Well... Oh, I suppose it’s all right to tell you, but this isn’t really my secret; rather is it a national one, so you must promise not to breathe a single word to anyone else.”
    Henrietta stared. “A national secret?” she repeated.
    “Yes, and it has to do with Russell’s Treasury connections. It was deemed wise to split the nation’s gold into small lots and take it to various hiding places throughout the land, so it couldn’t all fall into enemy hands at once. Some of it is here at Mulborough.”
    Henrietta’s eyes widened. “Actually in the abbey?” Her interest was now so thoroughly aroused that she forgot the cold.
    “No, in the old icehouse in the woods.”
    Henrietta blinked. “But it’s in an advanced state of dilapidation!”
    “That’s why Russell thought it perfect. All seemed well, and we were confident the gold’s presence was unknown to anyone, but whispers seem to be circulating. Amabel overheard something in the town and asked Russell about it, but he said it was just rumor. Now we have face the possibility that the Légère has wind of it. What other reason could there be for her to take such a risk?”
    “Perhaps it would be prudent to move the gold away from Mulborough,” Henrietta suggested.
    “Russell has already sent word to London to that effect. We’re still awaiting a reply. Oh, Henrietta, I wish it was all over and done with, because something else occurred on Christmas Eve.”
    “What happened?” Henrietta was mystified, for she’d slept very well that night, and knew nothing.
    “It was a very cloudy night, if you remember, and at two in the morning Dr. Hartley was returning from a call at a farm just inland on the moor. He came right past the abbey and saw a signal from a vessel out in the bay. There was an answering signal from St. Tydfa’s. It couldn’t have been smugglers, because there aren’t any at Mulborough now, and anyway he knows enough to realize the signals weren’t from local vessels. He felt certain it was to do with the Légère, although by the time he reached the town to raise the alarm, the signals had stopped.”
    Henrietta was dismayed. “Are you saying someone in Mulborough is helping the Légère?”
    “It seems so.”
    “One of the pilots?”
    “They can all account for themselves. We have no idea who it was.” Charlotte managed a smile. “Maybe it was the Mulborough bogle,” she added lightly.
    The eavesdropping ghosts exchanged glances. Bogles were Old Nick’s creatures—nasty red-faced goblins whose sole purpose was to cause trouble. They were only about twelve inches high and possessed sharp teeth they delighted in using at every opportunity.
    Henrietta gave a startled laugh. “The Mulborough bogle? What on earth is that?”
    “Supposedly they are wicked imps or goblins who torment mankind, and Mulborough churchyard apparently boasts one. They are said to be particularly active on Christmas Eve, which is why no one from the town would go up to investigate. You see, the doctor wasn’t alone