CHAPTER XII.
THE WAR BOARD "Rigmarole ?" drawled Heywood, and abstained from glancing at Chantel.
"Dare say.

However, Gilly, their rigmarole _may_ mean business.

On that supposition, I made my notes urgent to you chaps." "Quite right," said Mr.Forrester, tugging his gray moustache, and studying the floor.

"Obviously.

Rigmarole or not, your plan is thoroughly sound: stock one house, and if the pinch comes, fortify." Chantel drummed on Heywood's long table, and smiled quaintly, with eyes which roved out at window, and from mast to bare mast of the few small junks that lay moored against the distant bank.