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    ‘I’m all right.’
    She leaned into his embrace as Martin Cresse walked by, and trembled when Cresse bestowed a spiteful sideways glance at her in passing.
    ‘I expect to meet someone here from Falmouth for a report on Seagull’s condition,’ Adam said. ‘I did not stay a moment longer in Falmouth than I was forced. Normally I would have attended the ship’s business before embarking on personal matters, but I am only human, and I needed to get to you. I have missed you, sweet Beth.’
    ‘These are troubled times, Adam,’ she said in a low tone, searching for the words with which to explain what she felt and what might be.
    But she could not bring herself to say what was uppermost in her mind, for she would wipe out his happiness at a stroke, and probably set him off on a course that would spell disaster for all of them.
    ‘Trouble, if faced, can be warded off.’
    He frowned, gazing speculatively after the big figure of Martin Cresse as the man hurried to get under cover from the rain.
    ‘I have never liked Cresse,’ he mused. ‘And he gave you some odd looks when we passed him and Peake back there. Is Cresse still working those poor acres he calls a farm?’
    ‘The place stands untended year in and year out. There is talk these days that Cresse works for Peake.’
    ‘Doing what? Peake has an interest in many things, and, I suspect, not all of them honest,’ Adam said softly, but his tone was harsh. ‘There is only one business in these parts that embraces men of all kinds, and pays a great deal more than honest toil. You know what that is, Beth?’
    ‘Smuggling!’ she whispered.
    ‘Never say that word aloud outside your own home,’ he cautioned.
    His eyes were narrowed and glinting.
    ‘You are aware what happens if folk get too inquisitive or talk too much about other folk’s business. Murder has been committed many times in defence of smuggling. It is a way of life along the coast, and seafaring men are only human in these poverty-stricken times.’
    ‘I was only telling you what Cresse is doing these days,’ she whispered.
    ‘I suspect he’s always been inclined to lawlessness.’
    ‘And now he’s always talking with Jonah Peake. But surely Peake isn’t involved in smuggling! He’s the town mayor, and a magistrate. Shouldn’t he be above that sort of thing and set a fine example for others to follow?’
    ‘I’ll wager Peake, as a magistrate, has never convicted a known smuggler!’ Adam laughed softly. ‘He would fear for his own skin if he did, and, in any case, the customs’ men would never find anyone to give evidence against a contraband runner.’
    ‘Are the Trahernes involved in smuggling?’
    Beth looked searchingly into his face. Adam regarded her for a moment, then smiled and shook his head.
    ‘We were always too busy building up an honest business, Beth, and that’s the truth.’
    ‘I believe you. But what can you do if Peake is a smuggler, and did cause the mutiny on your ship? Could you fight him and win?’
    ‘I’ll get to the bottom of that business, and if Peake is involved then he’ll pay for it. But how to get at him is another matter. I’ll wager there isn’t a fisherman along this coast that hasn’t run a cargo at sometime to eke out his lawful income, or a farmer, smarting from the Government’s harsh tax on the export of wool, who hasn’t hauled his bales to the Continent in order to feed and clothe his children. The whole countryside is with the smugglers, from the richest to the poorest, all bound together by their code of silence. But if Peake is responsible for my trouble I’ll find someone willing to inform against him.’
    Beth nodded quickly, chilled by Adam’s words as much as by the driving rain that half-froze the air. They had taken shelter in a doorway, but the heavy shower ceased as abruptly as it had started, and Adam drew Beth out of their shelter, holding her close to his side. She was filled with a sense of foreboding as