Some hinted that Old Tom was a smuggler; others, even, that he was a
wrecker. True it was that often strange lights were seen to flicker
outside the bar to the cove.
Also there had been wrecks, and often, in the morning, when the
fishermen put out to a wreck, after a storm, it would be discovered that
some one had been there before them, since valuable and readily portable
parts of the wreck were frequently missing.
But while suspicion pointed to Old Tom and the strange men that
frequented his place, proofs positive of a crime were invariably
lacking, and so the village tolerated Old Tom's presence and predicted
his bad end.
It was to this shack that there came very early one morning, before the
break of day, a wounded man assisted by a woman. The woman gave a
peculiar rap at the door. There was a quick scurry inside, as of
fast-moving feet, then silence.
The woman rapped again, and this time with more force. After a moment a
sash was raised and a querulous voice demanded what was wanted.
"It's De Luxe Dora and Paul Balcom, and he's wounded. Quick, open the
door!"
There was a rush to open the door now and rough hands gently assisted
the wounded man to a seat inside.
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