Philip met Alan at the gates of Clairvon Abbey at nine thirty. “Any sign?” he asked.
Alan shook his head. He looked years older than he had just days ago walking along the road beside Hadrian’s Wall. “She seems to have disappeared into thin air.”
“The men have begun to arrive. Are you sure you want to go ahead?”
Wearily, Alan nodded. “There’s no reason we know of not to. If it turns out they do have her, we’ll draw back. But they can’t, Philip. I know this kind of man, this Jem. He’d use her against us.”
Philip simply nodded. There was nothing more he could say. “Will you speak to the men?”
“Yes.”
They walked together out onto the moor until they came to a shed with a broken-backed roof well away from the road. It was one of the estate’s outbuildings, but it had not been used for years, even by the smugglers, and they had chosen it as a meeting place for their raid tonight. Inside, by the meager light of a half-closed dark lantern, stood six soldiers and three excisemen. All of them drew to attention when they saw Alan and Philip.
“The rest will be here within half an hour,” the lieutenant in charge of the Lindisfarne garrison told them. “We’ve been coming in over the moor by two and threes, well wrapped up so no one will notice the uniforms.”
“Good. We’re nearly ready, then. The gang will be loading in a cove just north of here. There’s a small half-ruined house in it. You can recognize the place by that, should you get separated from the group. But try not to. We need to attack these ruffians in force. The leaders are the worst kind of villain.”
The men nodded. “Half down one side of the valley, half down the other?” said the lieutenant.
“That’s right. And everyone quiet until you hear the signal. We want to get as many as we can. Go slowly. Make no noise. We’ll have time.”
“Ay,” said one of the excisemen, rubbing his hands together. “We’ll get them this time. Think they’re so clever.”
Philip looked at him with distaste, then turned back to Alan. “The villagers,” he whispered. “Isn’t there any way…?”
“Not to separate them without alerting the others,” murmured Alan in reply. “I’m sorry.”
Philip sighed. He wanted the smuggling stopped, but he hated the thought of villagers he knew going to jail. They had tried to come up with a plan that might spare them, but there was always the chance that word would get to the leaders, and that would be fatal. Most of all, he did not want those men loose and eager for revenge on him and his family.
Two more men slipped in and pushed back cloaks to reveal army uniforms. “Anyone see you?” asked the lieutenant sharply.
“No, sir. We came cross the moor, like you said.”
“Right.”
They waited. A group of three men entered, and, five minutes later, two more. “That’s it,” the lieutenant informed them, and Philip nodded.
“You’re all armed?” asked Alan, and received nods and indications of weapons in return. “Shoot only if you must,” he said. “We don’t want unnecessary killing.”
The eager exciseman laughed, and Alan turned to glare at him. “I mean it.”
The man’s grin faded.
“Let’s go,” Alan added.
“What about Miranda?” Philip whispered to him. “Shouldn’t you mention her?” He drew back at the sight of Alan’s face, so grim and stony he hardly knew him.
But Alan nodded. “There’s a girl missing,” he told the men. “Lady Highdene’s sister. We don’t think the smugglers have her, because they’ve sent no message. But keep an eye out.”
“What’s she look like?” asked the lieutenant practically.
Alan nearly choked.
“Blond,” put in Philip. “Above medium height. Slender. Wearing a sprig muslin gown, we believe.”
They all took this in. Alan, recovered, signaled with a gesture that they should move, and they filed out in silence to melt into the misty evening.