THE SMUGGLER. 193 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



THE colonel of the dragoon regiment rode into Hytlie coolly 

 and calmly, followed by his servant; for though, to say the 

 truth, he had pushed his horse very fast for some part of the 

 way, he judged it expedient not to cause any bustle in the 

 town by an appearance of haste and excitement. It was cus- 

 tomary in those days for officers in the army in active service, 

 even when not on actual duty, to appear in their regimental 

 uniform; but this practice the gentleman in question had dis- 

 pensed with since he left London, on many motives, both 

 public and personal; and though he wore the cockade, at that 

 time the sign and symbol of a military man, or of one who 

 affected that position, yet he generally appeared in plain 

 clothes, except when any large body of the troops were 

 gathered together. 



At the door of the inn where he had fixed his head- quar- 

 ters, and in the passage leading from it into the house, were 

 a number of private soldiers and a sergeant ; and amongst them 

 appeared Mr. Mowle, the custom-house officer, waiting the 

 arrival of the commander of the dragoons. As the latter dis- 

 mounted, Mowle advanced to his side, saying something in a 

 low voice. The young officer looked at the sky, which was 

 still glowing bright with the sun, which had about an hour and 

 a-half to run ere it reached the horizon. 



"In an hour, Mr. Mowle," replied the officer; "there will 

 be time enough. Make all your own arrangements in the 

 mean while." 



" But, sir, if you have to send to Folkestone?" said Mowle. 

 " You misunderstood me, I think." 



"No, no," anwered the colonel, "I did not. You misun- 

 derstood me. Come back in an hour. If you show haste or 

 anxiety .you will put the enemy on his guard." 



After having said these few words in a low tone, he entered 

 the house, gave some orders to the soldiers, several of whom 

 sauntered away slowly to their quarters, as if the business of 



