William pope, coastguard, set down his mug on the table, drew his coat-sleeve across his mouth, then pushed away his used plate. Delving into his pocket, he withdrew, first his tobacco pouch and pipe, and then a copy of the evening paper. Carefully loading and lighting the pipe, he began, after set tling well back into the depths of his not altogether uncomfortable chair, to glance over the card of the next day's race meeting. It was a lonely job this, watching night after night for distress Signals that seldom went up; and for smugglers who never seemed to smuggle, at any rate not around this part of the coast. After a lightning survey Of the whole programme he decided to have another look around before going more carefully in the matter of picking the winner of the the Big Race of the day.