This was the gist of his strange story: 

The first barrel that Grimaud had found on passing into the compartment he struck —­ it was empty.  He passed on to another —­ it, also, was empty, but the third which he tried was, from the dull sound it gave out, evidently full.  At this point Grimaud stopped and was preparing to make a hole with his gimlet, when he found a spigot; he therefore placed his tankard under it and turned the spout; something, whatever it was the cask contained, fell silently into the tankard.

Whilst he was thinking that he should first taste the liquor which the tankard contained before taking it to his companions, the door of the cellar opened and a man with a lantern in his hands and enveloped in a cloak, came and stood just before the hogshead, behind which Grimaud, on hearing him come in, instantly crept.  This was Groslow.  He was accompanied by another man, who carried in his hand something long and flexible rolled up, resembling a washing line.  His face was hidden under the wide brim of his hat.  Grimaud, thinking that they had come, as he had, to try the port wine, effaced himself behind his cask and consoled himself with the reflection that if he were discovered the crime was not a great one.

“Have you the wick?” asked the one who carried the lantern.

“Here it is,” answered the other.

At the voice of this last speaker, Grimaud started and felt a shudder creeping through his very marrow.  He rose gently, so that his head was just above the round of the barrel, and under the large hat he recognized the pale face of Mordaunt.

“How long will this fuse burn?” asked this person.

“About five minutes,” replied the captain.

That voice also was known to Grimaud.  He looked from one to the other and after Mordaunt he recognized Groslow.

“Then tell the men to be in readiness —­ don’t tell them why now.  When the clock strikes a quarter after midnight collect your men.  Get down into the longboat.”

“That is, when I have lighted the match?”

“I will undertake that.  I wish to be sure of my revenge.  Are the oars in the boat?”

“Everything is ready.”

“’Tis well.”

Mordaunt knelt down and fastened one end of the train to the spigot, in order that he might have nothing to do but to set it on fire at the opposite end with the match.

He then arose.

“You hear me —­ at a quarter past midnight —­ in fact, in twenty minutes.”

“I understand all perfectly, sir,” replied Groslow; “but allow me to say there is great danger in what you undertake; would it not be better to intrust one of the men to set fire to the train?”

“My dear Groslow,” answered Mordaunt, “you know the French proverb, `Nothing one does not do one’s self is ever well done.’  I shall abide by that rule.”