When Dick came to himself, he found himself lying in the bottom of Nathan Pendry's boat, within a few yards of the jetty. The rescuers had come up in the nick of time. Dick and the lad he had saved were hauled into the boat together, and the fingers of the former were so tightly clenched that for some time it was impossible to separate the two. The overturned craft had drifted within a few yards of the cliff, and the other boy still clung to it. He was taken aboard, and meanwhile two of the men used all the means they knew to restore the others to consciousness. Without waiting to secure the capsized boat, they pulled with all speed for the jetty, which was thronged with village folk, whom the news of the accident had brought in hot haste from their houses.The dripping lads were taken out and carried to the inn, where Mrs. Doubledick had made up a roaring fire, and had blankets and hot brandy awaiting them. Sam, pale as a sheet, forced his way through the crowd at the door towards his master."Oh, 'tis good to see 'ee safe!" he cried, almost hugging Dick. "Hev 'ee swallered much?" he asked anxiously.Dick was too weak to reply. He began to laugh childishly, for within a few feet of him, swathed in a steaming blanket, sat his old enemy, Jake Tonkin, even more feeble than himself."'Twas him ye did it for!" cried Sam indignantly. "No one could ha' blamed 'ee if ye'd let the villain drown."Dick shook his head."Now, young Sam Pollex," cried Mrs. Doubledick, "you be off! Maister Trevanion don't want 'ee kiddlin' and quaddlin' about when he do feel bad. Just pick up his clothes out o' that plosh o' water and spread 'em on this chair-back. Then go. We'll send him home-along in a cart or a wheelbarrow when he's better.""Daze me if I go, Mistress!" cried Sam. "Here I bide till Maister be able to shail along, so I tell 'ee.""Let the chiel bide," said Nathan Pendry. "They be like two twains in everything, mischief and all, and they 'm best not parted.""Iss, fay, my brother Ben was twain to me," said Simon Mail, "and 'a quenched away when they took un from me.""Why, dear life now, neighbour Mail," cried Mrs. Doubledick, "bean't it true, then, that yer brother Ben was shot in the nuddick at some great battle in Egypt, or other furrin land?""True, he was; but he couldn't ha' been if he hadn't been parted from I.""A-course not, ye chucklehead!" said Mrs. Doubledick. "If ye hadn't been parted he would ha' been talkin' foolishness along with 'ee now. Off ye go now, neighbours all. The lads will do better wi'out ye, and there bean't no need to send over to Redruth for a doctor.""I wish 'ee well, Maister Trevanion," said Pendry as he went out. "Us do hate 'ee like p'ison, that's true; but I don't care who the man is, 'twas a brave deed, and that I'll stand by, so theer!"The village folk were somewhat divided in their opinion as to their future attitude towards the inmates of the Towers. The better sort, of whom Nathan Pendry may be taken as a representative, were so much struck by Dick's rescue of Jake, that their feelings underwent a change. They were not at first very ready to show their altered sentiments openly, but the leaven was beginning to work. If Dick, who had been so much persecuted, they argued, had the generosity to risk his life on behalf of one of those who had most injured him, it was hardly credible that he should really be the spy and informer he was suspected of being. Others, however, would not agree that the family was less open to suspicion, so far as smuggling was concerned, because of a single plucky act. Their view was supported by John Trevanion, who, having heard of the incident, took care to drop seeds of depreciation in the ears of such of the fishers as he encountered here and there.The former party received a notable accession on the evening of the rescue. Isaac Tonkin returned home. The first person he met when he set foot on the jetty was Nathan Pendry, who told him what had happened in his absence. Tonkin was so much surprised at the news that he did not wait to give an account of his discoveries in Roscoff, but hurried at once to his house, where, as Pendry had told him, Jake had been put to bed."Be ye feelin' bad, my sonny?" he said with rough tenderness, leaning over the boy."Not so bad as I did in the water, Feyther," Jake replied."'Tis good to hear, my son. You be safe as a trippet, right enough. And 'twas young Squire saved 'ee! Well, there's norra man in the whole parish could ha' done it. I reckon ye gied un a proper word o' thanks?"Jack did not reply."Did 'ee hear what I axed 'ee? A-course ye gied young Squire a good word for 's kindness? Did 'ee, or did 'ee not?""I didn'.""Ye didn'! And why not?""Never did it come into my head.""Well, it better come into yer head now, and quick, or I'll have to ding it in. Pull on your clothes, and go up-along this minute to the Towers, and say as you be tarrible ashamed o' yerself for forgettin' to say thank 'ee. Get on with 'ee!"Jake had to get up there and then, and set off on his errand. He had not been gone five minutes before his father, who had been walking restlessly about, suddenly went down into his cellar and brought up a keg of brandy and a large canister filled with tobacco. Then he rapped on the wall, and hearing a faint "Hallo!" in answer, he shouted:"Be that you, Ike Pendry?""Iss, 'tis I.""Come-along in; I want 'ee,"When the lad entered, Tonkin handed the keg and canister to him, saying:"Carr' them things up to Towers for me, my son. Axe for Squire, and tell un they be a present from Zacky Tonkin, go along now."Ten minutes after Ike started with his load, Tonkin, as restless as ever, banged the table with his great fist, startling his meek little wife, and cried:"Drown me if I don't do it!""What, Zacky, my dear?""Go up-along myself and thank young Squire. Name it all, hain't he saved our only boy, Betty? A man can't do less than say thank 'ee, I don't care who he is."He thrust on his hat, and set off in haste. At the top of the hill he overtook Ike, who, laden as he was, had walked slowly."Stir your shanks, Ike," said he. "Here now, I'll take keg; you keep canister."They went on together. At the Dower House they came up with Jake, who was shambling along, feeling anything but comfortable at the thought of the impending interview."What, slug-a-stump!" cried his father angrily. "Bean't theer yet?""Seeming not," said Jake. "I be tired.""Well, my son, ye'll just step out a bit quicker, or I'll have to take a loan of the Squire's whip."All three now proceeded until they came to the Towers."Be Squire to home, neighbour Pollex?" asked Tonkin of Reuben, who opened the door."Iss sure; but I reckon he don't want to see 'ee, Zacky Tonkin," replied the old man."Maybe, but I want to see he, and ye can tell un so."Reuben departed. In a minute he returned."Squire says ye're to step in," he said, sourly. "For me, I'd shet the door in yer face, and well you know why."Tonkin and his companions were led to the living room, where sat the Squire and his wife."Well, Tonkin, what can I do for you?" said the Squire pleasantly."Nawthin' as I know on, Squire, thank 'ee kindly. My respects, my lady." He turned his hat awkwardly between his hands. "The truth is, Squire," he went on, "I b'lieve I'm the feyther or an ungrateful young feller. I be real vexed to think he didn' say a word o' thanks to Maister Dick for what he done for un, and he hev got to say it now, or I'll leather un. Med I see young Maister?""Not to-night, Tonkin. I sent him to bed, and there he'll stay.""Then maybe ye'll carr' it for me, sir. Now Jake, make yer bob and say yer say."Jake touched his forelock, but stood in lubberly silence."What, can't 'ee find yer tongue? Now, hearken to me, and say what I say. If you please, Squire——""'If you please, Squire——'""I be truly thankful——""'I be truly thankful——'""As Maister Dick saved me from being drownded.""'As Maister Dick saved me from being drownded.'""Purticler as I didn' deserve it.""'Purticler as I didn' deserve it.'""Good now! I mean it, sir, and so do he. And I've brought 'ee a keg of cognac and a tin o' bacca—bought with honest money, Squire; and I axe 'ee to take 'em as a little small offering from a man who's a feyther like as you be.""Thank you, my man," said the Squire, his face kindling with pleasure. "I appreciate your thanks, and so will Dick: and I shall appreciate your gift, I assure you. Jake isn't much the worse for his ducking, I can see.""And I hope Maister Dick bean't either," said Tonkin."Not a bit. He'll be as well as ever after a night's rest. Jake should learn to swim, you know.""And I woll, if Maister Dick'll larn me," said Jake suddenly."Well, I don't know about that," said the Squire, with a slight reserve in his manner. "You see, there has been some feeling lately——""See now, Squire," interrupted Tonkin bluntly, "answer me a plain question, man to man. Did you, or anybody belongin' to 'ee, ever spy or inform on we honest free-traders?""That's a question you ought to be ashamed to put to me," said the Squire warmly. "Do you think a Trevanion would ever do such a thing?""Well, no, I didn' think so till—— Howsomever, I'll say no more o' that. I axe yer pardon, and I hope ye'll let bygones be bygones, and that's said honest.""With all my heart." The Squire extended his hand to the smuggler, whose grip made him wince."That's brave and comf'able," said Tonkin. "And now I wish 'ee well, sir, and you, ma'am, and if so be as Maister Dick 'll larn Jake to swim, I'll be proud, and so will he."The Squire showed the three men out, and they returned home well satisfied with their interview. Tonkin was soon the centre of a group of his particular friends in the parlour of the Five Pilchards, to whom, after announcing that he would believe no more "'nation gammut," as he put it, about the Squire and his son, proceeded to relate the issue of his visit to Roscoff."I hain't brought Doubledick back wi' me," he said. "For why? 'Cos he warn't theer!"CHAPTER THE NINETEENTHA Bargain with the RevenueAbout eight o'clock that same evening, while Tonkin was still conversing with his intimates in the parlour of the Five Pilchards, a horseman rode up to the house occupied by Mr. Polwhele on the south cliff. His seat was not that of an accomplished equestrian, and his manner of dismounting would have given some anxiety to anyone who had a regard for him. The long cloak he wore, with the collar turned up almost to the eyes, incommoded his legs, and only by clutching at his patient steed's mane did he avoid a fall.The house stood alone, and its solitary situation was a source of satisfaction to the traveller. A light within, and a full moon without, gave him a reasonable assurance that the riding-officer was at home. Accordingly he hitched the bridle to a hook placed for that purpose in the wall beside the door, and knocked. Mr. Polwhele was a bachelor, and it happened that the woman who was housekeeper, cook, and housemaid in one, had gone into the village, so that he opened the door himself."Well?" he said, peering at the close-wrapped figure that stood on the threshold."'Tis I, Maister Polwhele," said the man, at the same time turning down his collar."Doubledick!" exclaimed the astonished officer. "Well, of all the——! You'd be safer in France, my man.""Iss, maybe; but I be come home, and I'd like a word with 'ee, Maister.""Well, there's no warrant out for your arrest, so I suppose you——; yes, come in. I don't understand this at all."Doubledick followed the riding-officer into the room where he had been reading. He carefully shut the door behind him, offered Mr. Polwhele a pinch of snuff, and took one himself, then sat down rather stiffly.Half an hour later he emerged from the house, remounted his horse, and rode away, not northward in the direction of his home, but eastward along a bridle path across the moor. In a quarter of an hour, however, he turned to the left, skirted the village, passing about midway between it and the church, and continued for some time in the same direction. Then once more he struck to the left and came by-and-by to the high-road, at a point between the Towers and the Dower House. He turned into the drive leading to the latter, but instead of reining up at the front entrance, he passed round the house to the back, and having again awkwardly dismounted, he rapped on the kitchen door."Oh, 'tis you, Maister Doubledick," said Susan, when she opened to him. "Folks said you'd gone away.""So I had, my dear; but I be back-along, as you can see wi' yer pretty eyes. Now tell me, be the Maister to home?""Yes, he be in his room, rayther poorly.""And be he alone?""Yes, but 'tis not for long, folks say. We'll have a mistress afore long, and i hope she be likeable, that I do.""Well, now, that's new news, to be sure. And who be the woman?""She bean't 'zackly a woman. 'Tis Sir Bevil's darter, seemingly, and she be a maid younger nor I, they say.""So she be, to be sure. Dear life! And I never heerd o't. Here's a shillin' for your news, to buy 'ee a fairin'.""Thank 'ee, Maister Doubledick, but I shan't need un for a fairin'. I'm to have a fine gown o' silk, only think o't!""A present from Maister John, I s'pose?""No; 'tis to be from Sam Pollex, that young boy as lives up at Towers. Didn't 'ee know what a treasure he found?""What was it, my dear?""Why, he and young Squire were rummagin' in some cave yonder—I don't know 'zackly wheer—and they come upon boxes full o' silks and satins, all the colours o' the rainbow. Young Sam be goin' to gie me enough for a gown—a kind young feller, that he is.""Well, then, if ye don't mind, my dear, I'll take back that shillin', seein' as ye're so well purvided, and gie 'ee a groat instead. Bean't no good to waste money, be it? And now, will 'ee tell yer maister I be come for a word wi' un?"Susan went away with a cloud upon her face."Maister will see 'ee," she said when she returned. "Take yer groat, Maister Doubledick; some day ye may need it more nor I."Doubledick pocketed the coin with a chuckle, and followed her along the passage to her master's room."This is amazing, Doubledick," cried Trevanion, when the door was shut. "I never expected to see you again.""Hee! hee! Rusco bean't fitty for everyone, Maister John," replied the innkeeper, with a meaning look. "Ye be took bad, the maidy says.""Oh, 'tis nothing but a fit of the dismals. How in the world did you get away?""It do seem a miracle to 'ee, I s'pose. Why, fust man I seed when they put me on quay was a old friend o' yourn—leastways, 'a used to be sech. He be a good friend o' mine, too, 'cos I did un a good turn a while ago. He don't speak our Christian tongue very well, poor soul, but I made un understand a mistake had been made wi' me, and he showed his true friendship by bringing me over to Megavissey. I rid over from there, and plaguey stiff I be in the jints.""But you're in great danger; don't you know that? You made a terrible bungle of the job, my man.""True, but them above had a finger in it. I bean't sorry as I've seed Rusco, not I. And as to danger, well, Maister John, I'll speak to 'ee as a friend. The feller I named—no, to be sure, I didn' name un, but 'tis all one—the Frenchy do seem to be mizzy-mazy in his head. He telled to I of a feller called Robinson, and seemed to have got it in his furrin noddle that 'twas the same name as Trevanion, or fust cousin to 't. He axed a tarrible lot of questions about un, wheer he lived, and what he did wi's days and nights, and seemed to I as if he'd got a rod in pickle for un. Jown me if I didn' think 'a wanted to make a call on this Robinson feller, and 'ud be tarrible wisht if 'a didn' find un to home."Doubledick kept his eyes fixed upon Trevanion's face, but if he had expected to see any sign of uneasiness, he was disappointed."I take no interest in your friend or what he wants," said Trevanion. "I am more concerned about you, Doubledick. You're not safe here, you know.""That's what I've come to see 'ee about," returned the innkeeper. "But truly I be a bufflehead; I ought to ha' named un to 'ee, in course I ought. His name is Delarousse, Maister. And to tell 'ee the truth, thinkin' he was a bit over coorious in the questions he axed, I telled un a thing or two as wer a trifle crooked, I did. I telled un how this Maister Trevanion as he thought was Robinson was often away from home, and how 'a dwelt in a big house on the cliff called the Towers. He axed I if the Towers was near the top of a hill, and I telled un 'twas a goodish bit away, Maister Robinson—Trevanion, I mean—havin' come into the property. Thinks I to myself, if he comes to Polkerran one fine day a-caprousin' and makin' a stoor, 't'ud be just as well he went up-along to Towers and showed his tantrums to the cussed folk theer. What do 'ee say to that, Maister John?""You are talking a deal of nonsense, Doubledick," was the answer. "Don't you understand that as soon as 'tis known you are back in the village you'll be arrested for kidnapping Penwarden?""Oh, ay, that's what they say, is it? But don't 'ee think, now, we could persuade the officers o' the law to leave me bide?""Quite impossible. Penwarden and my young cousin will swear to you, and there has been such a stir about the matter that Sir Bevil or the Vicar will sign the warrant the moment they hear of your arrival.""Maybe. But money do make the mare to go, Maister, and seems to I, if so be you'd help, we med put a clapper on evil-speakin' tongues. A-course 't 'ud need a pretty big sum to do it proper, but theer, what's that to 'ee, rollin' in money as you be? And I know well ye'll put yer hand in pocket to help a poor feller in a quag, purticler as he've done summat for 'ee, in Polkerran and Rusco both.""I'll be hanged if I do," cried Trevanion, at last shaken out of his composure. "You made a wretched bungle of a simple job, and you'll have to take the consequences.""Good now! I like to hear a man speak fine and brave, but I hev a brave mouth-speech o' my own." Doubledick's tone was as smooth and deferential as it had been throughout the conversation, but an onlooker might now have observed that he was beginning to show his teeth. "Zacky Tonkin, now," he proceeded: "I reckon he'd be fain to know why Delarousse warn't no longer the feller to do trade with: that bit o' knowledge med be worth payin' for. And Sir Bevil: iss sure, his darter be a nesh young female——""Confound you! What do you mean by that?" cried Trevanion."Ah! little small birds do carr' little small seeds, they do. High persons like Sir Bevil be mighty purticler when 'tis question o' lawful matrimony."Trevanion, red with anger, rose from his chair and came towards Doubledick threateningly."Ah! dear life!" continued the innkeeper, unflinchingly, "and there be Mounseer Delarousse, too, thankful for what I done for him. It did vex me tarrible to mizzle un; but a word can put that right, and let un know the true dwellin' o' that coorious feller Robinson. In course his grudge agen Robinson bean't nothing to I, but he do seem tarrible sour and rampageous. Howsomever, let every man fight his own battles. Now I'll go home-along, and I wish 'ee well, Maister."He rose, took his hat, and moved towards the door.Trevanion looked after him for a moment irresolutely, then stretched his hand towards the bell-rope."Stay, Doubledick," he said, "you must take a thimbleful before you go.""Not for me, Maister," replied the innkeeper, with a virtuous expression of countenance."Nonsense, man. It won't poison you. You have read me quite wrongly, my friend. Did ever a man take offence so easily! You've come badly out of my little test, but I'll overlook it. I've a deal more patience than you.... Susan, bring the decanter and glasses. Hot, Doubledick?""Well, I don't mind if it be, this chilly night. But 'tis gettin' latish; it must be only a nibleykin, Maister.""Now, Doubledick," said Trevanion, as they sipped their liquor, "I'm not the man to refuse to help a friend, even if he shows himself only a fair-weather friend after all.""I knowed it," cried Doubledick heartily. "A little small voice inside telled me ye were only a-tryin' me, and 'ud show yerself in yer natural true colour at last. Well, Maister, ten pound won't do it; no, King's servants do hev high notions, be-jowned to 'em. Twenty? I be afeard it wouldn' go far. 'Tis well to do a thing handsome when 'tis to be done. Fifty? Iss, a man can do summat wi' fifty. Fifty pound 'll keep a many tongues quiet, and I'll be dazed if I don't snap my fingers at justices, sheriffs, hangmen, and constables, if I do hev fifty pound to my hand."Trevanion rose and went to a cabinet in a corner of the room. Unlocking it, he opened a drawer, standing with his back to Doubledick. There was a sound of rustling paper."'Tis a monstrous sum," he said, half turning."Ah, 'tis, to be sure," said Doubledick feelingly, "but King's officers do hev' a tarrible big swaller.""Well, here you are," said Trevanion, recrossing the room. "I'm not the man to refuse a friend.""So ye said afore. Thank 'ee. 'Tis atween us two, in course; my mouth is shet. But there's another thing, Maister. Did 'ee know as old Joe and young Dick brought a heap o' silks and satins out o' the old mine?""The deuce they did!" cried Trevanion in astonishment. "Where did they get them from?""That I can't say. But old mine do belong to 'ee, surely.""It does. Whatever they have found is my property. How do you know this, Doubledick?""The little small birds, Maister. Well, I've telled 'ee for yer good.""I'll not forget it. Egad, they shall hear from me."When Doubledick left the house a few minutes later, he carried the bundle of crisp white notes snug in his breast-pocket. He said good-bye very cordially to his host, and, mounting his horse, rode boldly along the highway and down the hill to the inn.Most of the smugglers had returned to their homes, but Tonkin, Nathan Pendry, and one or two more still remained in the inn-parlour, with their legs stretched out towards a genial fire, their long churchwarden pipes filling the room with clouds of smoke. Mrs. Doubledick had gone to bed. No other visitors were to be expected at this hour, and the company would let themselves out at their own time. The woman was torn between hope and fear. Tonkin had learnt in Roscoff that Doubledick had left with Delarousse; and Mrs. Doubledick was relieved to know that her husband had escaped the miseries of confinement in a French prison; but she was troubled lest he should fall into equally rigorous hands at home.Doubledick entered the room quietly."Well, neighbours all," he said behind their backs, "a man's home be the fittiest place for un, I b'lieve."The men sprang up in amazement, grasped his hand, smote him on the back."What did I tell 'ee!" said Tonkin. "Didn' I say neighbour Doubledick was a clever feller, and 't 'ud take a deal o' cleverness to get over he?""Ye did, there's no denyin' it," said Simon Mail. "Ah, neighbour Doubledick, you was born wi' noble intellects.""But you be a terrible bold feller," said Pendry. "There'll be a warrant out for 'ee, and ye'll be carr'd to Trura jail, as sure as I be alive.""If 'tis to be, 'tis; and rayther would I be jailed in Cornwall than in France," replied Doubledick. "But I won't be jailed nowheer, I b'lieve, and I'll tell 'ee why. Theer was only two as seed me—Joe Penwarden and the young tom-holla at the Towers. Well, they dussn't swear to me.""Why not, neighbour?" said Pendry."Because they been up to jiggery theirselves, hee, hee!""Speak yer meanin' plain, for the sake o' poor simple I," said Mail."Hee, hee! I mind I telled old Joe he'd hev to answer for pickin' and stealin', and so 'a woll. Do 'ee know, neighbours, they brought out o' well a noble store o' raiment, purple and fine linen, as pa'son says?""Never!" ejaculated Pendry and Mail together, Tonkin smoking in silence."Iss, 'tis true as Gospel. They brought out silks and satins and who knows what all, and look 'ee, friends, that be thievin'!""I don't know about that," said Tonkin."But I do know," said Doubledick positively. "We hain't used the well for ten year, we all do know that. Last time 'twas only 'bacca and brandy—not a bale o' silk or passel o' lace. Well, then, this stuff bein' buried in the earth, or we'd ha' found it, I reckon it had been theer ever since the landfall, hunderds o' years ago, in yer grandfer's days, Zacky. See then, the true owner o't, arter all this time, be the owner o' the land, and that's Maister John—would ha' been Squire till three months ago. Hee, hee! They ha' stole Maister John's proputty.""I've heerd tell o' what clever folks call treasure trove," said Mail, "and that belongs to King Jarge.""King Jarge ha' got quite as much as he can do with up-along to Lunnon," said Doubledick, "and I don't care who the man is, they silks and satins do belong now to Maister John. Well, do 'ee think they wicked robbers will hev the impedence to swear agen a honest free-trader like me? They'll never do it. Maister John will claim the goods and threaten 'em wi' the law, and that'll be enough to keep their mouths shet, trust me.""How did this wonderful bit o' knowledge come to 'ee neighbour, you bein' away and all?" asked Mail."Ah! little birds, Simon, little small birds," replied Doubledick with a knowing look."Then maybe you do know another 'mazin' bit o' news," said Pendry."Maybe I do. Tell to me, and then I'll tell 'ee.""Why, young Squire this very day did save young Jake from bein' drownded, didn' he, Zacky?""Iss, fay," said Tonkin, "and I went up-along to-night to say thank 'ee, as a true Cornishman oughted. And I tell 'ee what, friend, we been all wrong about Squire informin' and all that. I axed un plain, man to man, and he telled me I oughter be ashamed to think sech a thing, and I believe un.""But did he deny it?" asked the innkeeper."Well, no, I couldn' go so far as to say that.""Ah, Zacky, you be a simple plum-baked feller, to be sure. Ye don't know the windin's and twistin's o' these high gentry. Plain simple souls like 'ee don't know what eddication do for a man. That young whelp of Squire's do go to pa'son and larn all the wisdom and cleverness of ancient men of old; 'a can twist 'ee round his finger, I b'lieve."Tonkin looked troubled. Doubledick had such a reputation for knowingness that his opinion carried weight."Well, time will show," said Tonkin. "I tell 'ee one thing, that I won't hev a hand no more in anything agen Squire, not till I do know sartin-sure. What do 'ee say, Nathan?""Iss, I say the same. Let's be sartin-sure, that's what I say," replied Pendry.Doubledick puffed his scorn of such simple-mindedness."Well, I be tired, neighbours," he said. "Riding a-hoss-back from Megavissey hev well-nigh scat me in jowds" (by which he meant, broken him in pieces), "and I yearn for my bed. We'll see what we will see, I b'lieve."The company broke up. The fishers went their way; Doubledick closed the door behind them, and raked out the fire. Before he ascended to his bedroom he locked his bundle of banknotes in a strong box which he kept under the stairs, and might have been heard chuckling gleefully.Next morning the inn was early besieged by a crowd of fishers who had heard of Doubledick's return, and were agog to learn all the circumstances from his own lips. A little later the newly-imported miners arrived, and, later still, as the news travelled farther, farmers, millers, and dairymen flocked into the village. Doubledick rubbed his hands with glee at the trade he was doing. Except to his intimates, he explained very little. To the questions of the others he replied only by nods and winks, and they at last ceased to interrogate him, remarking one to another that he was a real knowing one; nobody could get round him; "a wonderful feller, truly, for see how soon he hev slipped away from France, wheer many a good man hev rotted in prison since these 'nation wars began."There were many who expected that before the day was out Doubledick would be arrested and carried before Sir Bevil, and a throng of idlers hung about the inn in anticipation of this exciting event. But no constable, soldier, or sheriff's officer appeared, and at nightfall the innkeeper's reputation was higher than ever.Two men believed that they knew the reason of the authorities' forbearance. John Trevanion fondly supposed that the banknotes with which he had parted had found their way into the pockets of Mr. Mildmay, Mr. Polwhele, and Joe Penwarden. In those days the bribery of revenue officers was not infrequent. Tonkin, on the other hand, suspected that the Squire had persuaded Penwarden not to prosecute, in order to consolidate the better feeling between the village and the Towers to which Dick's rescue of Jake had given birth. The actual reason was known to four men alone: the revenue officers, Penwarden, and Doubledick himself.About midday Sam Pollex came rushing up to the Towers from the village with the news of Doubledick's return."Nonsense," said Dick; "he wouldn't dare show his face again.""Name it all, Maister, didn' I see un with my own eyes?" cried Sam. "There he be, down-along at his kiddly-wink, more bustious nor ever, or may I never speak again."Dick hastened instantly to the little white cottage on the cliff, where Penwarden had again taken up his abode."Joe," he cried, bursting in like a whirlwind, "Doubledick is back! Come with me to the Parsonage; we'll get a warrant for his arrest."Penwarden was eating his dinner. He conveyed a piece of fish to his mouth without showing any sign of surprise."Back, is he?" he said. "Ah, well! Rusco warn't good for his health, seemingly.""It would suit him better than Truro jail. Come along; there's just time to get to the Parsonage and back before my dinner.""Not for a old ancient feller like me.""Well, I'll go alone then; but they'll want two witnesses, I believe, before any justice will commit him.""They will, I believe, but I won't be one. No, I couldn' bring myself to 't.""What on earth do you mean?" cried Dick in amazement. "'Tis your duty to bring the villain to justice.""Villain he is, and I'd crack his skull as soon as look at him. But as to duty—I knows my duty, Maister Dick, and my duty is to let un bide. Besides, never could I face the stoor of appearin' in a court o' justice. Theer'd be lawyer fellers in wigs and gowns, axin' me this, that, and t'other till I wouldn' know whether I pitched on my head or my heels. But I'd fain fetch un a crack on the nuddick, so as 'a couldn' stir for a fortnight.""Oh, well, of course 'tis your business," said Dick, somewhat offended. "If you don't prosecute him, I suppose he'll go free. 'Tis no concern of mine."And he returned to the Towers, and told his father that old Joe hadn't so much spirit as he thought.Two hours before, Penwarden had received a visit from Mr. Mildmay and Mr. Polwhele. When they informed him that Doubledick had returned, he started up, seized his hat, and declared with great vehemence that he would go straight along to the Parsonage and get Mr. Carlyon's warrant for the villain's arrest. The revenue officers had much ado to appease him, and only when Mr. Mildmay made a strong appeal to his sense of duty as an old Navy man did he agree to the inactive course proposed."If 'tis a matter of duty to the King, as ye say, sir," he remarked, "I reckon I do know my duty as well as any man. Hain't I served with Lord Admiral Rodney? Not a man of us but did what he bid at once, or he'd ha' knowed what for. Did I ever tell 'ee how the Lord Admiral spoke to me special one day?""Well now, let me see," said Mr. Mildmay, who had heard the story a score of times. "Did you ever hear it, Polwhele?""In Jamaica, wasn't it, Joe?" said the riding-officer, who having been on the coast ten times as long as Mr. Mildmay, had probably heard the story ten times as often."No, 'twas on Plymouth Hoe, sir. I was cruisin' theer one day when who should I see beatin' up but Lord Admiral Rodney, convoyin' two handsome females—ah! as clippin' craft as ever I seed. While I was standin' by, all of a sudden he put up his helm and steered right across my bows. 'Get out of the way, you cross-eyed son of a sea-cook!' says he, and the two females laughed like a brook in June. Ah! 'tidn' every common mariner as could say he'd been spoke to special by sech a fine man-o'-war as Lord Admiral Rodney.""You're right, Joe," said Mr. Mildmay. "No admiral at all, let alone a great man like Rodney, ever spoke to me, worse luck. Well then, you'll let matters rest, old fellow, and you won't be sorry for it.""But I may crack un over the skull if he gets in my way, I s'pose?""Well, yes, but not too hard; dead men tell no tales, you know.""I'll mind o' that, and not gie un a whole broadside. Dear life! What a mix-up of a world it is, to be sure?"CHAPTER THE TWENTIETHThe Last DealFor a week or two there was a lull in events. One day the Squire received a letter from John Trevanion's attorney, demanding that he should give up the property of his client which had been feloniously abstracted from the abandoned mine. The Squire swore, a rare occurrence with him, and sent Dick with the letter to his own lawyer in Truro. Dick returned with a piece of news that staggered his father. The attorney had died suddenly a few days before. He was the holder of the mortgage on the Towers and the Beal; it was almost certain that his executors would demand payment of the advance. For the first time the Squire was faced with the absolute loss of his ancestral home. He waited some days in torturing suspense: then the dread letter came. The amount of a hundred pounds must be paid within a month.The Squire had not even a hundred shillings to spare. In deep distress of mind he walked to Truro to consult another lawyer, and see whether the bond could not be renewed or transferred. He applied to a young solicitor who had recently set up business in the town, and who undertook to do what he could. The Squire placed in his hands also the letter he had received from John Trevanion's attorney.A correspondence ensued between the two men of law, with great ingenuity of argument and ample quotation of authorities on both sides. It did not terminate until the precise question in dispute was no longer of importance. Meanwhile the Squire retained the silks and satins.With the approach of Christmas the vigilance of Penwarden and his superiors became incessant. At that season there was a great demand all through the countryside for the wares of the free-traders, and unless precedent was to fail, many a bale and keg would be landed on the coast without paying dues to the King's Government.One dark night, Tonkin arrived in his lugger at Lunnan Cove, a few miles south of the village, with a fine cargo freighted jointly by John Trevanion and himself. Contrary winds having delayed him, he arrived several hours later than had been arranged, and found that the tub-carriers, evidently tired of waiting, had gone away. He dropped the tubs overboard in the usual manner, taking their bearings carefully, and returned for them on the following night. To his surprise and bitter rage, when he explored the bottom with his creeps, a strong force of tub-carriers waiting on the shore, he failed to find a single tub of the cargo so carefully laid. All had vanished. If he had been on the spot a few hours earlier, he would have seen them hoisted one by one into the revenue-boats, and conveyed to official sanctuary at St. Ives.The smugglers were furious. Some one must have betrayed them. Occasionally there were traitors among them, but rarely, for the fate of an informer, if discovered, was of such a nature as to deter others. When they returned to the inn to drown their disappointment and talk over the occurrence, Doubledick shrugged."What about yer fine friends at the Towers now, Zacky?" he said."Good sakes! How could 'em know?" cried the exasperated fisher."Oh, you simple soul! Didn' I see yer Jake a-fishin' along wi' young Squire only yesterday?""Rabbit it all! Do 'ee mean to say 'tis Jake that split? Why, daze me, the boy didn' know about it hisself, Doubledick; we kept it so close.""Well, I only tell 'ee what I seed. 'T 'ud be hard to b'lieve sech a miserable dirty thing o' Jake, I own it. In course he never done it, bein' a Tonkin; 'twas only my little bit o' fun. But I don't care who the man is, they folks up at Towers hev turned preventives; norra one of 'ee woll make me b'lieve different.""Dear life! Won't Maister John be in a gashly passion!" said Simon Mail. "He had more nor you in it, Zacky, I b'lieve!""Iss, fay, he did. Neighbour Doubledick loses least; 'tis a mercy for 'ee, neighbour.""So 'tis, Zacky," said Doubledick. "Ah! I was right to bide quiet a while arter that journey to France. But name it all, I bean't goin' to bide quiet for ever; I'll take a share in the next, be-jowned if I don't, and I hope them above will gie us better luck.""Ay, Maister John will be in a rare passion," repeated Simon Mail. "He be spendin' money so free that 'twill be a blow to him, to be sure.""True," said Pendry, "and spendin' for the country, too. Do 'ee think, now, as Boney will come to these parts, neighbour Tonkin?""I wouldn' think so myself, but you never can tell," replied Tonkin. "'Tis a little small place, wi' no great riches to tempt un; but that may be a reason for 't. We've no forts nor cannons nor sojers to defend us, and Boney may choose the place according; 't 'ud be easier to land here than at Weymouth, where the King and all his high generals sometimes be.""What I say is, Maister John be a fine feller," said Mail. "'Tidn' every gentleman as 'ud do what he be doin'. Why, he've had a dozen men from Trura riggin' up iron shetters to his winders, and a cart come t'other day wi' firelocks and pikes, and I seed him only yesterday marchin' his miners up and down in front o' the house, every man of 'em wi' a terrible weapon o' some sort; and when he shouted, up went firelock or pike, and seein' the guns all pointin' at me, I run off as hard as my poor legs 'ud move, for I didn' want to be hurted, not I.""Ay, and I seed Petherick goin' up to Dower House wi' a noble bell under his arm," said Pendry, "and when I axed un about it, 'a telled me 'twas to rig up in the roof, to gie the word o' warnin' to the whole village if Boney was spied wi' all his horses and men.""And what's more," added Mail, "he hev took three men-servants into house, purgy fellers they be too, so's to hev a army to lead agen the enemy. They'll eat a deal o' meat, they will, and sartin sure he'll be in a passion at losin' money over this crop.""Hee! hee!" laughed Doubledick. "It do make me laugh, neighbours, to think o' Maister John leadin' a army agen Boney. I'll go up-along to-morrer and see this practisin' wi' pikes and firelocks; 'twill do me good, hee! hee! They miners had better turn sojers out and out, for they'll never get tin or copper enough out o' the earth to pay for their keep."Doubledick strolled up the hill next day, and stood with a look of keen enjoyment on his face as a score of miners drilled under Trevanion's direction. At the close of the exercise he accosted Trevanion."'Tis a noble sperit, to be sure, Maister John," he said, "but daze me if I think yer new sojers and yer iron shetters will keep out Boney and his thousands and millions. He's a tarrible feller, by all accounts.""'Tis every man's duty to defend his country so far as he is able," said Trevanion coldly, beginning to move away."Iss, sure," said Doubledick, keeping pace with him; "and it must cost 'ee a tidy bit o' money. But I be afeard it bean't much good. Why now, s'pose 'twas not Boney, but one of his simple generals, or no sojer at all, but a plain feller like me—or like Delarousse, say. I say, s'pose Delarousse took it into his head to hev his revenge for the trade he've a-lost, to wipe off old scores, as ye may say—jown me if he'd be flustered by a passel o' miners or a shetter or two. Howsomever, 'tis not for me to say. Ye do know more about the arts o' warfare nor I, I reckon.""Your tongue runs on, Doubledick," said Trevanion with a hollow laugh. His annoyance was plain to see: the fellow was presuming on the secret between them."Iss, I be forgettin' what I come to say," said Doubledick. "The folks at the Towers be at their tricks again, seemingly.""If I knew it!" cried Trevanion furiously. "If you catch young Dick, or that wretched follower of his, spying, I hope you'll take care they don't do it again. You squared the officers on your own matter; can't we keep them quiet on the trade?""Ah! that's different. To jail me wouldn' put money in their pockets, like seizin' a cargo. I'm afeard 't 'ud take more nor the crop's worth to put 'em quiet on that, Maister. But there now! we allers do hev ups and downs; maybe the ups will beat the downs in the end."That Doubledick's philosophy was well founded was signally demonstrated a few days later. Though the loss in case of failure was severe, the profit of a successful run was so high that success once in three times was accounted satisfactory. To recoup the recent loss another cargo was freighted in Roscoff, Trevanion, Tonkin, and Doubledick taking equal shares. The spot selected was the mouth of the little creek four miles north of the Towers, where Dick had launched his home-made boat. Only a few men, on whom the confederates placed absolute reliance, were admitted to the secret. The goods were run ashore in complete safety, and each of the three freighters pocketed a considerable profit.Elated by this success, another run was arranged a few days subsequently. In this Trevanion had the largest share, Tonkin ranking next, Doubledick, Pendry, and Mail being involved to the extent of a few pounds each. The place was changed, a small cove a little nearer the village on the south side being chosen. Mr. Mildmay had been called to a spot ten miles distant, and everything promised success. Tonkin's lugger anchored off the rendezvous, the goods were "rafted" ashore, and the carriers had all shouldered their burdens, when a dash was made on them by preventive men aided by a troop of dragoons, and, after a sharp fight, only one man got away with his tubs.John Trevanion never appeared on the scene of operations. He was always kept well informed as to the time and place of the runs, but it was his constant policy to remain in the background. On this occasion, when he learnt of the second failure within a week, he was exasperated beyond endurance. He rode down to the inn, stormed at the smugglers, and having learnt that Mr. Mildmay had been summoned away by his own arrangement, merely as a blind, he declared that either Jake Tonkin or Ike Pendry had betrayed him to Dick, with whom they now occasionally fished. This accusation enraged the elder Tonkin, and the two men would have proceeded from recriminations to blows, if Doubledick had not stepped in between them.A week passed. It was the Wednesday before Christmas Day. There had been some hesitation among the smugglers, after the last failure, whether to venture on what was usually the most important run of the season. At this time they found customers for their wares much further afield than usual. But the prospect of large profits, and the perpetual fascination of the trade, overcame their doubts and fears, and early on this Wednesday morning, before it was light, Tonkin sailed off in theIsaac and Jacobfor Roscoff. Once more he had equal shares with Trevanion, no others being concerned in the run except as helpers.On Wednesday evening, Doubledick left the inn, and walked along the southward bank of the stream in the direction of the church. He had left word that he was going to see Petherick about a Christmas dinner which the Vicar was accustomed to give to the children and young people of the parish, in a barn upon his glebe. He spent an hour or two with Petherick in his cottage near the church, received from him the Vicar's orders for squab-pie (a hotch-potch of mutton, apples, onions and raisins, with sugar and seasoning), "figgy pudden" (which is Cornish for plum-pudding), and other delectables of the season, and having arranged with the sexton the commission to be paid him for passing on an order which he could have placed with no one else, he drank a parting glass and started ostensibly for home. It was a fine night, moonless but clear, with that crisp coldness in the air that exhilarates. Instead of walking along the road by which he had come, Doubledick struck off to the left into a lane that would bring him, after a long round, to the south cliff. There were no houses hereabouts, the church being at least half a mile from the nearest dwelling.When the innkeeper came to the spot where the ground began to rise, he did not turn to the right, along the path that led to the bridge over the stream, and was the nearest way home, but trudged directly onward, puffing a little as he went higher. It was very dark, or he might perhaps have seen a figure silently stalking him. Every now and again he stopped to take breath and to glance in the direction of the village. At these times the shadowy figure dropped down behind a furze bush, and there waited until Doubledick, with a grunt and sigh, again went on his way.Presently he came to Mr. Polwhele's house on the cliff. He did not pass it by, nor approach the front door, but stole to the window, where a light shone through the blind, and gently tapped at it. In a few moments the door opened. Mr. Polwhele's figure was for an instant silhouetted against the light from a hanging-lamp in the passage. Doubledick entered quickly, and the door was shut again.The silent form of the second man was motionless and invisible in the darkness. But when the door was closed, it tip-toed swiftly across the grass, and if a third person had been in the neighbourhood he might have seen the head and shoulders of a fisher in strong relief against the illuminated blind. But there was no spectator. The fisher placed his ear against the glass, and remained in that posture for several minutes. Then he withdrew, muttering his disappointment, and posted himself behind a clump of gorse a few yards away, where he could keep his eye on the door."Well, Doubledick," said the riding-officer, when he had given his visitor a chair, "'tis to be, then?""Iss, sir, and a big thing too. Maister Trevanion hev £200 ventured, and Tonkin the same.""And where is it to be this time?""At the creek, sir, same as time afore last. They did so well then that they couldn' think of a better place, the den bein' broke up.""And when?""Thursday night, or ye med say Friday mornin', accordin' to the wind.""They mean to run, and not to sink, I suppose?""Iss, sure, sir. Next day bein' Christmas, ye see, they must hev the stuff carried off at once. I'd axe 'ee, sir, not to lay hands on the men; seize the tubs, in course, but I don't want 'ee to do any hurt to the fellers.""Well, I'll do what I can; but you know what soldiers are. They've been itching for months to fight Boney, and they want to keep their hand in, you know.""True, sir. Ah well! the carriers will run fast enough; 'tis only Zacky Tonkin and the rest I be afeard for; they'll fight, 'tis sartin-sure.""You're a thorough-paced scoundrel, you know, Doubledick," said the riding-officer. "'Pon my word, if it weren't my duty to stop smuggling by hook or by crook, 'twould give me the greatest pleasure in life to see you tarred and feathered. I warned you, you remember. You'll be caught one of these days, mark my words, and the money you're heaping up won't save you then, my man.""Hee! hee!" laughed Doubledick uneasily. "Name it all, was there any other way to save myself from jail? 'Tis a risk, I own it; it do gie me the creeps in the night sometimes when I think o't. And be-jowned, sir, when you gie me the £50 for this job, I'll pack up my traps and go into other parts wi' my wife, and spend my old age in peace and quietness, if she'll let me. Ye won't stop me, sir?""Not I. 'Tis dirty work, and I'd rather fight the trade fair and square, 'pon my word I would.""'Tis the last time, then, for me. And now I must be traipsin' home-along."Mr. Polwhele accompanied him to the door. On the step Doubledick turned and said in low tones, his words, however, being distinct in the clear night air:"Ye'll mind and not take Zacky, sir? I hain't no fancy for blood-money.""I'll do what I can. Good-night."He stood for a moment or two watching the innkeeper's receding form, then turned to re-enter the house. But it happened that, in the very act of turning, he caught sight of a dark figure slinking away from a furze bush in Doubledick's wake. He slipped into the house, turned out the lamps in the passage and the room, and in a quarter of a minute came out again, the darkness completely veiling his movements. With swift steps he followed the two figures down the slope, drawing near to the second of them under cover of the bushes. Having assured himself that Doubledick was being deliberately shadowed, he bent low, rapidly made a circuit, and concealed himself behind a clump which the stealthy pursuer must pass. As the man came abreast of him, wholly engrossed in keeping the innkeeper in view, Polwhele suddenly sprang out, caught his victim by the throat so that he could utter no more than the faintest gurgle, and bore him to the ground. Then, whipping out his pistol, he whispered:"If you make a sound I will shoot you. Get up and come with me."Keeping a firm hand on the fallen man's collar, he lugged him to his feet, marched him back to the house, and thrust him through the still open door, which he bolted behind him."So 'tis you, Jake Tonkin," he said, as he relit the lamp."Iss, 'tis I. Let me go, Maister. Doubledick said 'twas I that split, the villain! Let me go. Scrounch me if the two-faced wretch don't suffer for this!""I'm afraid I can't let you go yet, my son," said the riding-officer. "Now 'tis no good kicking or shouting. Remain quiet, and in a day or two you shall go, safe and sound. If you give trouble I shall have to deal with you as your folk dealt with Penwarden."Jake sullenly submitted. Mr. Polwhele gave him supper, then locked him into a room where the window was heavily barred."I am sick of this," he thought, as he returned to his own room. "'Tis well Doubledick is going, or, by George, there would be murder."Next morning Sam Pollex, going down to the village to buy some raisins for a plum-pudding, overtook Susan Berry, John Trevanion's housemaid. "Aw, Ma'am, ye do look wisht, sure enough," said Sam, remarking the gloomy aspect of Maidy Susan's usually merry face."And so I be, Sam," she replied, "I wish I were to-home, I do.""Now that be cruel to we, daze me if it bean't. Why do 'ee wish sech a cruel thing, Ma'am?""Why, to-morrer be Christmas Eve, and there'll be no ashton fagot, and no egg-hot, like us have to-home.""What be they, Maidy?""Don't 'ee know that? Why, the fagot be made of ash-sticks tied about wi' nine twigs, and on Christmas Eve 'tis dragged to the Squire's hearth and set ablaze; and then we do dance and jump for cakes, and dive for apples in a tub o' water. Oh, 'tis sech fun, you can't think! And then we drink egg-hot——""What's that, if it be so pleasin'?""Why, silly chiel, 'tis cider and eggs and spice, made as hot as 'ee can drink it.""Aw, I know what that is. Mess is what we do name it, and as for fagot, we do call that mock, only it bean't sticks, but a mighty block o' wood. Squire don't hev it now, since he hev been so poor. But why don't 'ee axe yer maister if ye can do as ye do to-home?""I don't know what be come to Maister. He be all hippety-like—looks as grave as a church owl, and him goin' to be married, too. Pa'son be goin' to pray for un fust time o' Sunday.""Well, marriage be a fearsome thing, I s'pose. I seed a weddin' up-along at church once, and theer was a little Noah's flood o' tears. I don't think I'll ever be married.""You be only a chiel yet. But there now, 'tis ever since Maister brought they great lubbers into house, and gied 'em guns and swords and I don't know what all. Seems he be afeard o' summat. Do 'ee think that monster Boney will come and eat the poor childer here, Sam?""Not he. He dussn't do it. Don't 'ee be afeard, now, Maidy dear. I'll look out for un, and if I do see un I'll ring our bell so powerful loud that all the brave men in the country will run to defend 'ee.""We've got a bell, too.""Not sech a banger as ours, I warrant 'ee. I do wish Squire were rich; then we'd hev the mock, and a great big figgy pudden, not a little small one wi' half a pound o' figs in it; and Squire would axe 'ee and all the country to come and join us, and ye'd come in yer fine new gown that I'm goin' to gie ye. But theer, 'tis not to be, and 'twill only make us wisht to think o't.""Look 'ee see, Sam: what a throng o' folk! Whatever is the matter?"They had come within sight of the village green, where a crowd of men, women, and children were talking excitedly."What be all this stoor, Ike?" asked Sam of the young fisher."Why, Jake Tonkin can't be found nowhere. He wented up-along yestere'en to wood to get some mistletoe, and never come back.""Never come back?""No. His mother be in a tarrible state, Zacky bein' away and all.""Sure 'a didn' go wi' Zacky to Rusco?""Now that's foolish. Didn' I say 'a wented for mistletoe yestere'en, and Zacky sailed off in mornin'.'"So 'a did, to be sure. Here's riding-officer; let us tell him."Mr. Polwhele rode up into the midst of the crowd."Well, neighbours, what's to do?" he cried."Jake Tonkin be gone a-lost, Maister," shouted a score of voices in answer."Lost, is he? He's big enough to take care of himself, surely. Isn't he with his father?""No, Maister," piped a small boy. "Zacky Tonkin be——""Wisht yer clatter!" cried the child's mother, catching him by the arm and shaking him."Who saw him last?" asked the riding-officer."Who seed un last?" repeated several voices. "Here be Un Tonkin; she'll tell to we.""'A wented last night to get mistletoe, sir," said Mrs. Tonkin, with a pale, anxious face. "Never hev he stayed out all night afore, and I be afeard something bad hev come to un.""Oh, dear no! I can't imagine anything of the kind," said the officer, cheerily. "Don't be down-hearted. He'll come home-along by-and-by as large as life. I'll ride to the wood and look about, and tell my men to search too. The young rascal! Up to some mischief, you may be sure. Go home, my good woman, and don't distress yourself, and you folks, instead of standing gossiping here, go and hunt. Christmas Day is coming, you know, and we must have Jake back in time for the parson's dinner."But the day closed without the discovery of any trace of the missing lad, and some of Mrs. Tonkin's kind neighbours were already condoling with her on the loss of her only son, and assuring her that Zacky would be in a terrible way when he came home.Mr. Mildmay and the riding-officer supped together before setting out, the one by sea, the other by land, for the scene of the expected run."Would to heaven we had never come to terms with Doubledick!" said Mr. Polwhele. "Never again for me, Mildmay. Set a thief to catch a thief, they say, but I don't know how you feel: I feel myself a mean rascal, old stager as I am at the game.""Honestly, I agree with you, and having Jake Tonkin mewed up here complicates things desperately. The moment he is let loose he'll tell his father, and if I know the man, Doubledick's life won't be worth a snap of the finger.""Well, I warned him. I couldn't foresee that Jake would come upon him in that accidental way. Scheme as we will, Mildmay, there's a Power that overrules us all.""The best thing we can do now is to warn Doubledick. We've gone into partnership with the fellow, and we can't in honour keep silence. Give him a chance to escape.""You're right. I'll call at the inn as I ride down, and tell him we have Jake locked up here. That will give him about twelve hours' grace—time to clear away bag and baggage."When the lieutenant went aboard his cutter, Mr. Polwhele entered the inn."Where's Doubledick?" he asked of the inn-keeper's wife."He be gone along to Trura, Maister," she replied, in her usual vinegary manner."What for?""Well, I don't know as it be any business o' yourn, but 'tis to buy some figs for the pa'son's dinner.""Oh, well, if he comes back, tell him I want to see him first thing in the morning, will you?""He hain't done nawthin' agen the law.""I'm glad of that. Don't forget my message."Mr. Polwhele left, firmly convinced that Doubledick had become suspicious and already beat a retreat.
When Dick came to himself, he found himself lying in the bottom of Nathan Pendry's boat, within a few yards of the jetty. The rescuers had come up in the nick of time. Dick and the lad he had saved were hauled into the boat together, and the fingers of the former were so tightly clenched that for some time it was impossible to separate the two. The overturned craft had drifted within a few yards of the cliff, and the other boy still clung to it. He was taken aboard, and meanwhile two of the men used all the means they knew to restore the others to consciousness. Without waiting to secure the capsized boat, they pulled with all speed for the jetty, which was thronged with village folk, whom the news of the accident had brought in hot haste from their houses.
The dripping lads were taken out and carried to the inn, where Mrs. Doubledick had made up a roaring fire, and had blankets and hot brandy awaiting them. Sam, pale as a sheet, forced his way through the crowd at the door towards his master.
"Oh, 'tis good to see 'ee safe!" he cried, almost hugging Dick. "Hev 'ee swallered much?" he asked anxiously.
Dick was too weak to reply. He began to laugh childishly, for within a few feet of him, swathed in a steaming blanket, sat his old enemy, Jake Tonkin, even more feeble than himself.
"'Twas him ye did it for!" cried Sam indignantly. "No one could ha' blamed 'ee if ye'd let the villain drown."
Dick shook his head.
"Now, young Sam Pollex," cried Mrs. Doubledick, "you be off! Maister Trevanion don't want 'ee kiddlin' and quaddlin' about when he do feel bad. Just pick up his clothes out o' that plosh o' water and spread 'em on this chair-back. Then go. We'll send him home-along in a cart or a wheelbarrow when he's better."
"Daze me if I go, Mistress!" cried Sam. "Here I bide till Maister be able to shail along, so I tell 'ee."
"Let the chiel bide," said Nathan Pendry. "They be like two twains in everything, mischief and all, and they 'm best not parted."
"Iss, fay, my brother Ben was twain to me," said Simon Mail, "and 'a quenched away when they took un from me."
"Why, dear life now, neighbour Mail," cried Mrs. Doubledick, "bean't it true, then, that yer brother Ben was shot in the nuddick at some great battle in Egypt, or other furrin land?"
"True, he was; but he couldn't ha' been if he hadn't been parted from I."
"A-course not, ye chucklehead!" said Mrs. Doubledick. "If ye hadn't been parted he would ha' been talkin' foolishness along with 'ee now. Off ye go now, neighbours all. The lads will do better wi'out ye, and there bean't no need to send over to Redruth for a doctor."
"I wish 'ee well, Maister Trevanion," said Pendry as he went out. "Us do hate 'ee like p'ison, that's true; but I don't care who the man is, 'twas a brave deed, and that I'll stand by, so theer!"
The village folk were somewhat divided in their opinion as to their future attitude towards the inmates of the Towers. The better sort, of whom Nathan Pendry may be taken as a representative, were so much struck by Dick's rescue of Jake, that their feelings underwent a change. They were not at first very ready to show their altered sentiments openly, but the leaven was beginning to work. If Dick, who had been so much persecuted, they argued, had the generosity to risk his life on behalf of one of those who had most injured him, it was hardly credible that he should really be the spy and informer he was suspected of being. Others, however, would not agree that the family was less open to suspicion, so far as smuggling was concerned, because of a single plucky act. Their view was supported by John Trevanion, who, having heard of the incident, took care to drop seeds of depreciation in the ears of such of the fishers as he encountered here and there.
The former party received a notable accession on the evening of the rescue. Isaac Tonkin returned home. The first person he met when he set foot on the jetty was Nathan Pendry, who told him what had happened in his absence. Tonkin was so much surprised at the news that he did not wait to give an account of his discoveries in Roscoff, but hurried at once to his house, where, as Pendry had told him, Jake had been put to bed.
"Be ye feelin' bad, my sonny?" he said with rough tenderness, leaning over the boy.
"Not so bad as I did in the water, Feyther," Jake replied.
"'Tis good to hear, my son. You be safe as a trippet, right enough. And 'twas young Squire saved 'ee! Well, there's norra man in the whole parish could ha' done it. I reckon ye gied un a proper word o' thanks?"
Jack did not reply.
"Did 'ee hear what I axed 'ee? A-course ye gied young Squire a good word for 's kindness? Did 'ee, or did 'ee not?"
"I didn'."
"Ye didn'! And why not?"
"Never did it come into my head."
"Well, it better come into yer head now, and quick, or I'll have to ding it in. Pull on your clothes, and go up-along this minute to the Towers, and say as you be tarrible ashamed o' yerself for forgettin' to say thank 'ee. Get on with 'ee!"
Jake had to get up there and then, and set off on his errand. He had not been gone five minutes before his father, who had been walking restlessly about, suddenly went down into his cellar and brought up a keg of brandy and a large canister filled with tobacco. Then he rapped on the wall, and hearing a faint "Hallo!" in answer, he shouted:
"Be that you, Ike Pendry?"
"Iss, 'tis I."
"Come-along in; I want 'ee,"
When the lad entered, Tonkin handed the keg and canister to him, saying:
"Carr' them things up to Towers for me, my son. Axe for Squire, and tell un they be a present from Zacky Tonkin, go along now."
Ten minutes after Ike started with his load, Tonkin, as restless as ever, banged the table with his great fist, startling his meek little wife, and cried:
"Drown me if I don't do it!"
"What, Zacky, my dear?"
"Go up-along myself and thank young Squire. Name it all, hain't he saved our only boy, Betty? A man can't do less than say thank 'ee, I don't care who he is."
He thrust on his hat, and set off in haste. At the top of the hill he overtook Ike, who, laden as he was, had walked slowly.
"Stir your shanks, Ike," said he. "Here now, I'll take keg; you keep canister."
They went on together. At the Dower House they came up with Jake, who was shambling along, feeling anything but comfortable at the thought of the impending interview.
"What, slug-a-stump!" cried his father angrily. "Bean't theer yet?"
"Seeming not," said Jake. "I be tired."
"Well, my son, ye'll just step out a bit quicker, or I'll have to take a loan of the Squire's whip."
All three now proceeded until they came to the Towers.
"Be Squire to home, neighbour Pollex?" asked Tonkin of Reuben, who opened the door.
"Iss sure; but I reckon he don't want to see 'ee, Zacky Tonkin," replied the old man.
"Maybe, but I want to see he, and ye can tell un so."
Reuben departed. In a minute he returned.
"Squire says ye're to step in," he said, sourly. "For me, I'd shet the door in yer face, and well you know why."
Tonkin and his companions were led to the living room, where sat the Squire and his wife.
"Well, Tonkin, what can I do for you?" said the Squire pleasantly.
"Nawthin' as I know on, Squire, thank 'ee kindly. My respects, my lady." He turned his hat awkwardly between his hands. "The truth is, Squire," he went on, "I b'lieve I'm the feyther or an ungrateful young feller. I be real vexed to think he didn' say a word o' thanks to Maister Dick for what he done for un, and he hev got to say it now, or I'll leather un. Med I see young Maister?"
"Not to-night, Tonkin. I sent him to bed, and there he'll stay."
"Then maybe ye'll carr' it for me, sir. Now Jake, make yer bob and say yer say."
Jake touched his forelock, but stood in lubberly silence.
"What, can't 'ee find yer tongue? Now, hearken to me, and say what I say. If you please, Squire——"
"'If you please, Squire——'"
"I be truly thankful——"
"'I be truly thankful——'"
"As Maister Dick saved me from being drownded."
"'As Maister Dick saved me from being drownded.'"
"Purticler as I didn' deserve it."
"'Purticler as I didn' deserve it.'"
"Good now! I mean it, sir, and so do he. And I've brought 'ee a keg of cognac and a tin o' bacca—bought with honest money, Squire; and I axe 'ee to take 'em as a little small offering from a man who's a feyther like as you be."
"Thank you, my man," said the Squire, his face kindling with pleasure. "I appreciate your thanks, and so will Dick: and I shall appreciate your gift, I assure you. Jake isn't much the worse for his ducking, I can see."
"And I hope Maister Dick bean't either," said Tonkin.
"Not a bit. He'll be as well as ever after a night's rest. Jake should learn to swim, you know."
"And I woll, if Maister Dick'll larn me," said Jake suddenly.
"Well, I don't know about that," said the Squire, with a slight reserve in his manner. "You see, there has been some feeling lately——"
"See now, Squire," interrupted Tonkin bluntly, "answer me a plain question, man to man. Did you, or anybody belongin' to 'ee, ever spy or inform on we honest free-traders?"
"That's a question you ought to be ashamed to put to me," said the Squire warmly. "Do you think a Trevanion would ever do such a thing?"
"Well, no, I didn' think so till—— Howsomever, I'll say no more o' that. I axe yer pardon, and I hope ye'll let bygones be bygones, and that's said honest."
"With all my heart." The Squire extended his hand to the smuggler, whose grip made him wince.
"That's brave and comf'able," said Tonkin. "And now I wish 'ee well, sir, and you, ma'am, and if so be as Maister Dick 'll larn Jake to swim, I'll be proud, and so will he."
The Squire showed the three men out, and they returned home well satisfied with their interview. Tonkin was soon the centre of a group of his particular friends in the parlour of the Five Pilchards, to whom, after announcing that he would believe no more "'nation gammut," as he put it, about the Squire and his son, proceeded to relate the issue of his visit to Roscoff.
"I hain't brought Doubledick back wi' me," he said. "For why? 'Cos he warn't theer!"
CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH
A Bargain with the Revenue
About eight o'clock that same evening, while Tonkin was still conversing with his intimates in the parlour of the Five Pilchards, a horseman rode up to the house occupied by Mr. Polwhele on the south cliff. His seat was not that of an accomplished equestrian, and his manner of dismounting would have given some anxiety to anyone who had a regard for him. The long cloak he wore, with the collar turned up almost to the eyes, incommoded his legs, and only by clutching at his patient steed's mane did he avoid a fall.
The house stood alone, and its solitary situation was a source of satisfaction to the traveller. A light within, and a full moon without, gave him a reasonable assurance that the riding-officer was at home. Accordingly he hitched the bridle to a hook placed for that purpose in the wall beside the door, and knocked. Mr. Polwhele was a bachelor, and it happened that the woman who was housekeeper, cook, and housemaid in one, had gone into the village, so that he opened the door himself.
"Well?" he said, peering at the close-wrapped figure that stood on the threshold.
"'Tis I, Maister Polwhele," said the man, at the same time turning down his collar.
"Doubledick!" exclaimed the astonished officer. "Well, of all the——! You'd be safer in France, my man."
"Iss, maybe; but I be come home, and I'd like a word with 'ee, Maister."
"Well, there's no warrant out for your arrest, so I suppose you——; yes, come in. I don't understand this at all."
Doubledick followed the riding-officer into the room where he had been reading. He carefully shut the door behind him, offered Mr. Polwhele a pinch of snuff, and took one himself, then sat down rather stiffly.
Half an hour later he emerged from the house, remounted his horse, and rode away, not northward in the direction of his home, but eastward along a bridle path across the moor. In a quarter of an hour, however, he turned to the left, skirted the village, passing about midway between it and the church, and continued for some time in the same direction. Then once more he struck to the left and came by-and-by to the high-road, at a point between the Towers and the Dower House. He turned into the drive leading to the latter, but instead of reining up at the front entrance, he passed round the house to the back, and having again awkwardly dismounted, he rapped on the kitchen door.
"Oh, 'tis you, Maister Doubledick," said Susan, when she opened to him. "Folks said you'd gone away."
"So I had, my dear; but I be back-along, as you can see wi' yer pretty eyes. Now tell me, be the Maister to home?"
"Yes, he be in his room, rayther poorly."
"And be he alone?"
"Yes, but 'tis not for long, folks say. We'll have a mistress afore long, and i hope she be likeable, that I do."
"Well, now, that's new news, to be sure. And who be the woman?"
"She bean't 'zackly a woman. 'Tis Sir Bevil's darter, seemingly, and she be a maid younger nor I, they say."
"So she be, to be sure. Dear life! And I never heerd o't. Here's a shillin' for your news, to buy 'ee a fairin'."
"Thank 'ee, Maister Doubledick, but I shan't need un for a fairin'. I'm to have a fine gown o' silk, only think o't!"
"A present from Maister John, I s'pose?"
"No; 'tis to be from Sam Pollex, that young boy as lives up at Towers. Didn't 'ee know what a treasure he found?"
"What was it, my dear?"
"Why, he and young Squire were rummagin' in some cave yonder—I don't know 'zackly wheer—and they come upon boxes full o' silks and satins, all the colours o' the rainbow. Young Sam be goin' to gie me enough for a gown—a kind young feller, that he is."
"Well, then, if ye don't mind, my dear, I'll take back that shillin', seein' as ye're so well purvided, and gie 'ee a groat instead. Bean't no good to waste money, be it? And now, will 'ee tell yer maister I be come for a word wi' un?"
Susan went away with a cloud upon her face.
"Maister will see 'ee," she said when she returned. "Take yer groat, Maister Doubledick; some day ye may need it more nor I."
Doubledick pocketed the coin with a chuckle, and followed her along the passage to her master's room.
"This is amazing, Doubledick," cried Trevanion, when the door was shut. "I never expected to see you again."
"Hee! hee! Rusco bean't fitty for everyone, Maister John," replied the innkeeper, with a meaning look. "Ye be took bad, the maidy says."
"Oh, 'tis nothing but a fit of the dismals. How in the world did you get away?"
"It do seem a miracle to 'ee, I s'pose. Why, fust man I seed when they put me on quay was a old friend o' yourn—leastways, 'a used to be sech. He be a good friend o' mine, too, 'cos I did un a good turn a while ago. He don't speak our Christian tongue very well, poor soul, but I made un understand a mistake had been made wi' me, and he showed his true friendship by bringing me over to Megavissey. I rid over from there, and plaguey stiff I be in the jints."
"But you're in great danger; don't you know that? You made a terrible bungle of the job, my man."
"True, but them above had a finger in it. I bean't sorry as I've seed Rusco, not I. And as to danger, well, Maister John, I'll speak to 'ee as a friend. The feller I named—no, to be sure, I didn' name un, but 'tis all one—the Frenchy do seem to be mizzy-mazy in his head. He telled to I of a feller called Robinson, and seemed to have got it in his furrin noddle that 'twas the same name as Trevanion, or fust cousin to 't. He axed a tarrible lot of questions about un, wheer he lived, and what he did wi's days and nights, and seemed to I as if he'd got a rod in pickle for un. Jown me if I didn' think 'a wanted to make a call on this Robinson feller, and 'ud be tarrible wisht if 'a didn' find un to home."
Doubledick kept his eyes fixed upon Trevanion's face, but if he had expected to see any sign of uneasiness, he was disappointed.
"I take no interest in your friend or what he wants," said Trevanion. "I am more concerned about you, Doubledick. You're not safe here, you know."
"That's what I've come to see 'ee about," returned the innkeeper. "But truly I be a bufflehead; I ought to ha' named un to 'ee, in course I ought. His name is Delarousse, Maister. And to tell 'ee the truth, thinkin' he was a bit over coorious in the questions he axed, I telled un a thing or two as wer a trifle crooked, I did. I telled un how this Maister Trevanion as he thought was Robinson was often away from home, and how 'a dwelt in a big house on the cliff called the Towers. He axed I if the Towers was near the top of a hill, and I telled un 'twas a goodish bit away, Maister Robinson—Trevanion, I mean—havin' come into the property. Thinks I to myself, if he comes to Polkerran one fine day a-caprousin' and makin' a stoor, 't'ud be just as well he went up-along to Towers and showed his tantrums to the cussed folk theer. What do 'ee say to that, Maister John?"
"You are talking a deal of nonsense, Doubledick," was the answer. "Don't you understand that as soon as 'tis known you are back in the village you'll be arrested for kidnapping Penwarden?"
"Oh, ay, that's what they say, is it? But don't 'ee think, now, we could persuade the officers o' the law to leave me bide?"
"Quite impossible. Penwarden and my young cousin will swear to you, and there has been such a stir about the matter that Sir Bevil or the Vicar will sign the warrant the moment they hear of your arrival."
"Maybe. But money do make the mare to go, Maister, and seems to I, if so be you'd help, we med put a clapper on evil-speakin' tongues. A-course 't 'ud need a pretty big sum to do it proper, but theer, what's that to 'ee, rollin' in money as you be? And I know well ye'll put yer hand in pocket to help a poor feller in a quag, purticler as he've done summat for 'ee, in Polkerran and Rusco both."
"I'll be hanged if I do," cried Trevanion, at last shaken out of his composure. "You made a wretched bungle of a simple job, and you'll have to take the consequences."
"Good now! I like to hear a man speak fine and brave, but I hev a brave mouth-speech o' my own." Doubledick's tone was as smooth and deferential as it had been throughout the conversation, but an onlooker might now have observed that he was beginning to show his teeth. "Zacky Tonkin, now," he proceeded: "I reckon he'd be fain to know why Delarousse warn't no longer the feller to do trade with: that bit o' knowledge med be worth payin' for. And Sir Bevil: iss sure, his darter be a nesh young female——"
"Confound you! What do you mean by that?" cried Trevanion.
"Ah! little small birds do carr' little small seeds, they do. High persons like Sir Bevil be mighty purticler when 'tis question o' lawful matrimony."
Trevanion, red with anger, rose from his chair and came towards Doubledick threateningly.
"Ah! dear life!" continued the innkeeper, unflinchingly, "and there be Mounseer Delarousse, too, thankful for what I done for him. It did vex me tarrible to mizzle un; but a word can put that right, and let un know the true dwellin' o' that coorious feller Robinson. In course his grudge agen Robinson bean't nothing to I, but he do seem tarrible sour and rampageous. Howsomever, let every man fight his own battles. Now I'll go home-along, and I wish 'ee well, Maister."
He rose, took his hat, and moved towards the door.
Trevanion looked after him for a moment irresolutely, then stretched his hand towards the bell-rope.
"Stay, Doubledick," he said, "you must take a thimbleful before you go."
"Not for me, Maister," replied the innkeeper, with a virtuous expression of countenance.
"Nonsense, man. It won't poison you. You have read me quite wrongly, my friend. Did ever a man take offence so easily! You've come badly out of my little test, but I'll overlook it. I've a deal more patience than you.... Susan, bring the decanter and glasses. Hot, Doubledick?"
"Well, I don't mind if it be, this chilly night. But 'tis gettin' latish; it must be only a nibleykin, Maister."
"Now, Doubledick," said Trevanion, as they sipped their liquor, "I'm not the man to refuse to help a friend, even if he shows himself only a fair-weather friend after all."
"I knowed it," cried Doubledick heartily. "A little small voice inside telled me ye were only a-tryin' me, and 'ud show yerself in yer natural true colour at last. Well, Maister, ten pound won't do it; no, King's servants do hev high notions, be-jowned to 'em. Twenty? I be afeard it wouldn' go far. 'Tis well to do a thing handsome when 'tis to be done. Fifty? Iss, a man can do summat wi' fifty. Fifty pound 'll keep a many tongues quiet, and I'll be dazed if I don't snap my fingers at justices, sheriffs, hangmen, and constables, if I do hev fifty pound to my hand."
Trevanion rose and went to a cabinet in a corner of the room. Unlocking it, he opened a drawer, standing with his back to Doubledick. There was a sound of rustling paper.
"'Tis a monstrous sum," he said, half turning.
"Ah, 'tis, to be sure," said Doubledick feelingly, "but King's officers do hev' a tarrible big swaller."
"Well, here you are," said Trevanion, recrossing the room. "I'm not the man to refuse a friend."
"So ye said afore. Thank 'ee. 'Tis atween us two, in course; my mouth is shet. But there's another thing, Maister. Did 'ee know as old Joe and young Dick brought a heap o' silks and satins out o' the old mine?"
"The deuce they did!" cried Trevanion in astonishment. "Where did they get them from?"
"That I can't say. But old mine do belong to 'ee, surely."
"It does. Whatever they have found is my property. How do you know this, Doubledick?"
"The little small birds, Maister. Well, I've telled 'ee for yer good."
"I'll not forget it. Egad, they shall hear from me."
When Doubledick left the house a few minutes later, he carried the bundle of crisp white notes snug in his breast-pocket. He said good-bye very cordially to his host, and, mounting his horse, rode boldly along the highway and down the hill to the inn.
Most of the smugglers had returned to their homes, but Tonkin, Nathan Pendry, and one or two more still remained in the inn-parlour, with their legs stretched out towards a genial fire, their long churchwarden pipes filling the room with clouds of smoke. Mrs. Doubledick had gone to bed. No other visitors were to be expected at this hour, and the company would let themselves out at their own time. The woman was torn between hope and fear. Tonkin had learnt in Roscoff that Doubledick had left with Delarousse; and Mrs. Doubledick was relieved to know that her husband had escaped the miseries of confinement in a French prison; but she was troubled lest he should fall into equally rigorous hands at home.
Doubledick entered the room quietly.
"Well, neighbours all," he said behind their backs, "a man's home be the fittiest place for un, I b'lieve."
The men sprang up in amazement, grasped his hand, smote him on the back.
"What did I tell 'ee!" said Tonkin. "Didn' I say neighbour Doubledick was a clever feller, and 't 'ud take a deal o' cleverness to get over he?"
"Ye did, there's no denyin' it," said Simon Mail. "Ah, neighbour Doubledick, you was born wi' noble intellects."
"But you be a terrible bold feller," said Pendry. "There'll be a warrant out for 'ee, and ye'll be carr'd to Trura jail, as sure as I be alive."
"If 'tis to be, 'tis; and rayther would I be jailed in Cornwall than in France," replied Doubledick. "But I won't be jailed nowheer, I b'lieve, and I'll tell 'ee why. Theer was only two as seed me—Joe Penwarden and the young tom-holla at the Towers. Well, they dussn't swear to me."
"Why not, neighbour?" said Pendry.
"Because they been up to jiggery theirselves, hee, hee!"
"Speak yer meanin' plain, for the sake o' poor simple I," said Mail.
"Hee, hee! I mind I telled old Joe he'd hev to answer for pickin' and stealin', and so 'a woll. Do 'ee know, neighbours, they brought out o' well a noble store o' raiment, purple and fine linen, as pa'son says?"
"Never!" ejaculated Pendry and Mail together, Tonkin smoking in silence.
"Iss, 'tis true as Gospel. They brought out silks and satins and who knows what all, and look 'ee, friends, that be thievin'!"
"I don't know about that," said Tonkin.
"But I do know," said Doubledick positively. "We hain't used the well for ten year, we all do know that. Last time 'twas only 'bacca and brandy—not a bale o' silk or passel o' lace. Well, then, this stuff bein' buried in the earth, or we'd ha' found it, I reckon it had been theer ever since the landfall, hunderds o' years ago, in yer grandfer's days, Zacky. See then, the true owner o't, arter all this time, be the owner o' the land, and that's Maister John—would ha' been Squire till three months ago. Hee, hee! They ha' stole Maister John's proputty."
"I've heerd tell o' what clever folks call treasure trove," said Mail, "and that belongs to King Jarge."
"King Jarge ha' got quite as much as he can do with up-along to Lunnon," said Doubledick, "and I don't care who the man is, they silks and satins do belong now to Maister John. Well, do 'ee think they wicked robbers will hev the impedence to swear agen a honest free-trader like me? They'll never do it. Maister John will claim the goods and threaten 'em wi' the law, and that'll be enough to keep their mouths shet, trust me."
"How did this wonderful bit o' knowledge come to 'ee neighbour, you bein' away and all?" asked Mail.
"Ah! little birds, Simon, little small birds," replied Doubledick with a knowing look.
"Then maybe you do know another 'mazin' bit o' news," said Pendry.
"Maybe I do. Tell to me, and then I'll tell 'ee."
"Why, young Squire this very day did save young Jake from bein' drownded, didn' he, Zacky?"
"Iss, fay," said Tonkin, "and I went up-along to-night to say thank 'ee, as a true Cornishman oughted. And I tell 'ee what, friend, we been all wrong about Squire informin' and all that. I axed un plain, man to man, and he telled me I oughter be ashamed to think sech a thing, and I believe un."
"But did he deny it?" asked the innkeeper.
"Well, no, I couldn' go so far as to say that."
"Ah, Zacky, you be a simple plum-baked feller, to be sure. Ye don't know the windin's and twistin's o' these high gentry. Plain simple souls like 'ee don't know what eddication do for a man. That young whelp of Squire's do go to pa'son and larn all the wisdom and cleverness of ancient men of old; 'a can twist 'ee round his finger, I b'lieve."
Tonkin looked troubled. Doubledick had such a reputation for knowingness that his opinion carried weight.
"Well, time will show," said Tonkin. "I tell 'ee one thing, that I won't hev a hand no more in anything agen Squire, not till I do know sartin-sure. What do 'ee say, Nathan?"
"Iss, I say the same. Let's be sartin-sure, that's what I say," replied Pendry.
Doubledick puffed his scorn of such simple-mindedness.
"Well, I be tired, neighbours," he said. "Riding a-hoss-back from Megavissey hev well-nigh scat me in jowds" (by which he meant, broken him in pieces), "and I yearn for my bed. We'll see what we will see, I b'lieve."
The company broke up. The fishers went their way; Doubledick closed the door behind them, and raked out the fire. Before he ascended to his bedroom he locked his bundle of banknotes in a strong box which he kept under the stairs, and might have been heard chuckling gleefully.
Next morning the inn was early besieged by a crowd of fishers who had heard of Doubledick's return, and were agog to learn all the circumstances from his own lips. A little later the newly-imported miners arrived, and, later still, as the news travelled farther, farmers, millers, and dairymen flocked into the village. Doubledick rubbed his hands with glee at the trade he was doing. Except to his intimates, he explained very little. To the questions of the others he replied only by nods and winks, and they at last ceased to interrogate him, remarking one to another that he was a real knowing one; nobody could get round him; "a wonderful feller, truly, for see how soon he hev slipped away from France, wheer many a good man hev rotted in prison since these 'nation wars began."
There were many who expected that before the day was out Doubledick would be arrested and carried before Sir Bevil, and a throng of idlers hung about the inn in anticipation of this exciting event. But no constable, soldier, or sheriff's officer appeared, and at nightfall the innkeeper's reputation was higher than ever.
Two men believed that they knew the reason of the authorities' forbearance. John Trevanion fondly supposed that the banknotes with which he had parted had found their way into the pockets of Mr. Mildmay, Mr. Polwhele, and Joe Penwarden. In those days the bribery of revenue officers was not infrequent. Tonkin, on the other hand, suspected that the Squire had persuaded Penwarden not to prosecute, in order to consolidate the better feeling between the village and the Towers to which Dick's rescue of Jake had given birth. The actual reason was known to four men alone: the revenue officers, Penwarden, and Doubledick himself.
About midday Sam Pollex came rushing up to the Towers from the village with the news of Doubledick's return.
"Nonsense," said Dick; "he wouldn't dare show his face again."
"Name it all, Maister, didn' I see un with my own eyes?" cried Sam. "There he be, down-along at his kiddly-wink, more bustious nor ever, or may I never speak again."
Dick hastened instantly to the little white cottage on the cliff, where Penwarden had again taken up his abode.
"Joe," he cried, bursting in like a whirlwind, "Doubledick is back! Come with me to the Parsonage; we'll get a warrant for his arrest."
Penwarden was eating his dinner. He conveyed a piece of fish to his mouth without showing any sign of surprise.
"Back, is he?" he said. "Ah, well! Rusco warn't good for his health, seemingly."
"It would suit him better than Truro jail. Come along; there's just time to get to the Parsonage and back before my dinner."
"Not for a old ancient feller like me."
"Well, I'll go alone then; but they'll want two witnesses, I believe, before any justice will commit him."
"They will, I believe, but I won't be one. No, I couldn' bring myself to 't."
"What on earth do you mean?" cried Dick in amazement. "'Tis your duty to bring the villain to justice."
"Villain he is, and I'd crack his skull as soon as look at him. But as to duty—I knows my duty, Maister Dick, and my duty is to let un bide. Besides, never could I face the stoor of appearin' in a court o' justice. Theer'd be lawyer fellers in wigs and gowns, axin' me this, that, and t'other till I wouldn' know whether I pitched on my head or my heels. But I'd fain fetch un a crack on the nuddick, so as 'a couldn' stir for a fortnight."
"Oh, well, of course 'tis your business," said Dick, somewhat offended. "If you don't prosecute him, I suppose he'll go free. 'Tis no concern of mine."
And he returned to the Towers, and told his father that old Joe hadn't so much spirit as he thought.
Two hours before, Penwarden had received a visit from Mr. Mildmay and Mr. Polwhele. When they informed him that Doubledick had returned, he started up, seized his hat, and declared with great vehemence that he would go straight along to the Parsonage and get Mr. Carlyon's warrant for the villain's arrest. The revenue officers had much ado to appease him, and only when Mr. Mildmay made a strong appeal to his sense of duty as an old Navy man did he agree to the inactive course proposed.
"If 'tis a matter of duty to the King, as ye say, sir," he remarked, "I reckon I do know my duty as well as any man. Hain't I served with Lord Admiral Rodney? Not a man of us but did what he bid at once, or he'd ha' knowed what for. Did I ever tell 'ee how the Lord Admiral spoke to me special one day?"
"Well now, let me see," said Mr. Mildmay, who had heard the story a score of times. "Did you ever hear it, Polwhele?"
"In Jamaica, wasn't it, Joe?" said the riding-officer, who having been on the coast ten times as long as Mr. Mildmay, had probably heard the story ten times as often.
"No, 'twas on Plymouth Hoe, sir. I was cruisin' theer one day when who should I see beatin' up but Lord Admiral Rodney, convoyin' two handsome females—ah! as clippin' craft as ever I seed. While I was standin' by, all of a sudden he put up his helm and steered right across my bows. 'Get out of the way, you cross-eyed son of a sea-cook!' says he, and the two females laughed like a brook in June. Ah! 'tidn' every common mariner as could say he'd been spoke to special by sech a fine man-o'-war as Lord Admiral Rodney."
"You're right, Joe," said Mr. Mildmay. "No admiral at all, let alone a great man like Rodney, ever spoke to me, worse luck. Well then, you'll let matters rest, old fellow, and you won't be sorry for it."
"But I may crack un over the skull if he gets in my way, I s'pose?"
"Well, yes, but not too hard; dead men tell no tales, you know."
"I'll mind o' that, and not gie un a whole broadside. Dear life! What a mix-up of a world it is, to be sure?"
CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH
The Last Deal
For a week or two there was a lull in events. One day the Squire received a letter from John Trevanion's attorney, demanding that he should give up the property of his client which had been feloniously abstracted from the abandoned mine. The Squire swore, a rare occurrence with him, and sent Dick with the letter to his own lawyer in Truro. Dick returned with a piece of news that staggered his father. The attorney had died suddenly a few days before. He was the holder of the mortgage on the Towers and the Beal; it was almost certain that his executors would demand payment of the advance. For the first time the Squire was faced with the absolute loss of his ancestral home. He waited some days in torturing suspense: then the dread letter came. The amount of a hundred pounds must be paid within a month.
The Squire had not even a hundred shillings to spare. In deep distress of mind he walked to Truro to consult another lawyer, and see whether the bond could not be renewed or transferred. He applied to a young solicitor who had recently set up business in the town, and who undertook to do what he could. The Squire placed in his hands also the letter he had received from John Trevanion's attorney.
A correspondence ensued between the two men of law, with great ingenuity of argument and ample quotation of authorities on both sides. It did not terminate until the precise question in dispute was no longer of importance. Meanwhile the Squire retained the silks and satins.
With the approach of Christmas the vigilance of Penwarden and his superiors became incessant. At that season there was a great demand all through the countryside for the wares of the free-traders, and unless precedent was to fail, many a bale and keg would be landed on the coast without paying dues to the King's Government.
One dark night, Tonkin arrived in his lugger at Lunnan Cove, a few miles south of the village, with a fine cargo freighted jointly by John Trevanion and himself. Contrary winds having delayed him, he arrived several hours later than had been arranged, and found that the tub-carriers, evidently tired of waiting, had gone away. He dropped the tubs overboard in the usual manner, taking their bearings carefully, and returned for them on the following night. To his surprise and bitter rage, when he explored the bottom with his creeps, a strong force of tub-carriers waiting on the shore, he failed to find a single tub of the cargo so carefully laid. All had vanished. If he had been on the spot a few hours earlier, he would have seen them hoisted one by one into the revenue-boats, and conveyed to official sanctuary at St. Ives.
The smugglers were furious. Some one must have betrayed them. Occasionally there were traitors among them, but rarely, for the fate of an informer, if discovered, was of such a nature as to deter others. When they returned to the inn to drown their disappointment and talk over the occurrence, Doubledick shrugged.
"What about yer fine friends at the Towers now, Zacky?" he said.
"Good sakes! How could 'em know?" cried the exasperated fisher.
"Oh, you simple soul! Didn' I see yer Jake a-fishin' along wi' young Squire only yesterday?"
"Rabbit it all! Do 'ee mean to say 'tis Jake that split? Why, daze me, the boy didn' know about it hisself, Doubledick; we kept it so close."
"Well, I only tell 'ee what I seed. 'T 'ud be hard to b'lieve sech a miserable dirty thing o' Jake, I own it. In course he never done it, bein' a Tonkin; 'twas only my little bit o' fun. But I don't care who the man is, they folks up at Towers hev turned preventives; norra one of 'ee woll make me b'lieve different."
"Dear life! Won't Maister John be in a gashly passion!" said Simon Mail. "He had more nor you in it, Zacky, I b'lieve!"
"Iss, fay, he did. Neighbour Doubledick loses least; 'tis a mercy for 'ee, neighbour."
"So 'tis, Zacky," said Doubledick. "Ah! I was right to bide quiet a while arter that journey to France. But name it all, I bean't goin' to bide quiet for ever; I'll take a share in the next, be-jowned if I don't, and I hope them above will gie us better luck."
"Ay, Maister John will be in a rare passion," repeated Simon Mail. "He be spendin' money so free that 'twill be a blow to him, to be sure."
"True," said Pendry, "and spendin' for the country, too. Do 'ee think, now, as Boney will come to these parts, neighbour Tonkin?"
"I wouldn' think so myself, but you never can tell," replied Tonkin. "'Tis a little small place, wi' no great riches to tempt un; but that may be a reason for 't. We've no forts nor cannons nor sojers to defend us, and Boney may choose the place according; 't 'ud be easier to land here than at Weymouth, where the King and all his high generals sometimes be."
"What I say is, Maister John be a fine feller," said Mail. "'Tidn' every gentleman as 'ud do what he be doin'. Why, he've had a dozen men from Trura riggin' up iron shetters to his winders, and a cart come t'other day wi' firelocks and pikes, and I seed him only yesterday marchin' his miners up and down in front o' the house, every man of 'em wi' a terrible weapon o' some sort; and when he shouted, up went firelock or pike, and seein' the guns all pointin' at me, I run off as hard as my poor legs 'ud move, for I didn' want to be hurted, not I."
"Ay, and I seed Petherick goin' up to Dower House wi' a noble bell under his arm," said Pendry, "and when I axed un about it, 'a telled me 'twas to rig up in the roof, to gie the word o' warnin' to the whole village if Boney was spied wi' all his horses and men."
"And what's more," added Mail, "he hev took three men-servants into house, purgy fellers they be too, so's to hev a army to lead agen the enemy. They'll eat a deal o' meat, they will, and sartin sure he'll be in a passion at losin' money over this crop."
"Hee! hee!" laughed Doubledick. "It do make me laugh, neighbours, to think o' Maister John leadin' a army agen Boney. I'll go up-along to-morrer and see this practisin' wi' pikes and firelocks; 'twill do me good, hee! hee! They miners had better turn sojers out and out, for they'll never get tin or copper enough out o' the earth to pay for their keep."
Doubledick strolled up the hill next day, and stood with a look of keen enjoyment on his face as a score of miners drilled under Trevanion's direction. At the close of the exercise he accosted Trevanion.
"'Tis a noble sperit, to be sure, Maister John," he said, "but daze me if I think yer new sojers and yer iron shetters will keep out Boney and his thousands and millions. He's a tarrible feller, by all accounts."
"'Tis every man's duty to defend his country so far as he is able," said Trevanion coldly, beginning to move away.
"Iss, sure," said Doubledick, keeping pace with him; "and it must cost 'ee a tidy bit o' money. But I be afeard it bean't much good. Why now, s'pose 'twas not Boney, but one of his simple generals, or no sojer at all, but a plain feller like me—or like Delarousse, say. I say, s'pose Delarousse took it into his head to hev his revenge for the trade he've a-lost, to wipe off old scores, as ye may say—jown me if he'd be flustered by a passel o' miners or a shetter or two. Howsomever, 'tis not for me to say. Ye do know more about the arts o' warfare nor I, I reckon."
"Your tongue runs on, Doubledick," said Trevanion with a hollow laugh. His annoyance was plain to see: the fellow was presuming on the secret between them.
"Iss, I be forgettin' what I come to say," said Doubledick. "The folks at the Towers be at their tricks again, seemingly."
"If I knew it!" cried Trevanion furiously. "If you catch young Dick, or that wretched follower of his, spying, I hope you'll take care they don't do it again. You squared the officers on your own matter; can't we keep them quiet on the trade?"
"Ah! that's different. To jail me wouldn' put money in their pockets, like seizin' a cargo. I'm afeard 't 'ud take more nor the crop's worth to put 'em quiet on that, Maister. But there now! we allers do hev ups and downs; maybe the ups will beat the downs in the end."
That Doubledick's philosophy was well founded was signally demonstrated a few days later. Though the loss in case of failure was severe, the profit of a successful run was so high that success once in three times was accounted satisfactory. To recoup the recent loss another cargo was freighted in Roscoff, Trevanion, Tonkin, and Doubledick taking equal shares. The spot selected was the mouth of the little creek four miles north of the Towers, where Dick had launched his home-made boat. Only a few men, on whom the confederates placed absolute reliance, were admitted to the secret. The goods were run ashore in complete safety, and each of the three freighters pocketed a considerable profit.
Elated by this success, another run was arranged a few days subsequently. In this Trevanion had the largest share, Tonkin ranking next, Doubledick, Pendry, and Mail being involved to the extent of a few pounds each. The place was changed, a small cove a little nearer the village on the south side being chosen. Mr. Mildmay had been called to a spot ten miles distant, and everything promised success. Tonkin's lugger anchored off the rendezvous, the goods were "rafted" ashore, and the carriers had all shouldered their burdens, when a dash was made on them by preventive men aided by a troop of dragoons, and, after a sharp fight, only one man got away with his tubs.
John Trevanion never appeared on the scene of operations. He was always kept well informed as to the time and place of the runs, but it was his constant policy to remain in the background. On this occasion, when he learnt of the second failure within a week, he was exasperated beyond endurance. He rode down to the inn, stormed at the smugglers, and having learnt that Mr. Mildmay had been summoned away by his own arrangement, merely as a blind, he declared that either Jake Tonkin or Ike Pendry had betrayed him to Dick, with whom they now occasionally fished. This accusation enraged the elder Tonkin, and the two men would have proceeded from recriminations to blows, if Doubledick had not stepped in between them.
A week passed. It was the Wednesday before Christmas Day. There had been some hesitation among the smugglers, after the last failure, whether to venture on what was usually the most important run of the season. At this time they found customers for their wares much further afield than usual. But the prospect of large profits, and the perpetual fascination of the trade, overcame their doubts and fears, and early on this Wednesday morning, before it was light, Tonkin sailed off in theIsaac and Jacobfor Roscoff. Once more he had equal shares with Trevanion, no others being concerned in the run except as helpers.
On Wednesday evening, Doubledick left the inn, and walked along the southward bank of the stream in the direction of the church. He had left word that he was going to see Petherick about a Christmas dinner which the Vicar was accustomed to give to the children and young people of the parish, in a barn upon his glebe. He spent an hour or two with Petherick in his cottage near the church, received from him the Vicar's orders for squab-pie (a hotch-potch of mutton, apples, onions and raisins, with sugar and seasoning), "figgy pudden" (which is Cornish for plum-pudding), and other delectables of the season, and having arranged with the sexton the commission to be paid him for passing on an order which he could have placed with no one else, he drank a parting glass and started ostensibly for home. It was a fine night, moonless but clear, with that crisp coldness in the air that exhilarates. Instead of walking along the road by which he had come, Doubledick struck off to the left into a lane that would bring him, after a long round, to the south cliff. There were no houses hereabouts, the church being at least half a mile from the nearest dwelling.
When the innkeeper came to the spot where the ground began to rise, he did not turn to the right, along the path that led to the bridge over the stream, and was the nearest way home, but trudged directly onward, puffing a little as he went higher. It was very dark, or he might perhaps have seen a figure silently stalking him. Every now and again he stopped to take breath and to glance in the direction of the village. At these times the shadowy figure dropped down behind a furze bush, and there waited until Doubledick, with a grunt and sigh, again went on his way.
Presently he came to Mr. Polwhele's house on the cliff. He did not pass it by, nor approach the front door, but stole to the window, where a light shone through the blind, and gently tapped at it. In a few moments the door opened. Mr. Polwhele's figure was for an instant silhouetted against the light from a hanging-lamp in the passage. Doubledick entered quickly, and the door was shut again.
The silent form of the second man was motionless and invisible in the darkness. But when the door was closed, it tip-toed swiftly across the grass, and if a third person had been in the neighbourhood he might have seen the head and shoulders of a fisher in strong relief against the illuminated blind. But there was no spectator. The fisher placed his ear against the glass, and remained in that posture for several minutes. Then he withdrew, muttering his disappointment, and posted himself behind a clump of gorse a few yards away, where he could keep his eye on the door.
"Well, Doubledick," said the riding-officer, when he had given his visitor a chair, "'tis to be, then?"
"Iss, sir, and a big thing too. Maister Trevanion hev £200 ventured, and Tonkin the same."
"And where is it to be this time?"
"At the creek, sir, same as time afore last. They did so well then that they couldn' think of a better place, the den bein' broke up."
"And when?"
"Thursday night, or ye med say Friday mornin', accordin' to the wind."
"They mean to run, and not to sink, I suppose?"
"Iss, sure, sir. Next day bein' Christmas, ye see, they must hev the stuff carried off at once. I'd axe 'ee, sir, not to lay hands on the men; seize the tubs, in course, but I don't want 'ee to do any hurt to the fellers."
"Well, I'll do what I can; but you know what soldiers are. They've been itching for months to fight Boney, and they want to keep their hand in, you know."
"True, sir. Ah well! the carriers will run fast enough; 'tis only Zacky Tonkin and the rest I be afeard for; they'll fight, 'tis sartin-sure."
"You're a thorough-paced scoundrel, you know, Doubledick," said the riding-officer. "'Pon my word, if it weren't my duty to stop smuggling by hook or by crook, 'twould give me the greatest pleasure in life to see you tarred and feathered. I warned you, you remember. You'll be caught one of these days, mark my words, and the money you're heaping up won't save you then, my man."
"Hee! hee!" laughed Doubledick uneasily. "Name it all, was there any other way to save myself from jail? 'Tis a risk, I own it; it do gie me the creeps in the night sometimes when I think o't. And be-jowned, sir, when you gie me the £50 for this job, I'll pack up my traps and go into other parts wi' my wife, and spend my old age in peace and quietness, if she'll let me. Ye won't stop me, sir?"
"Not I. 'Tis dirty work, and I'd rather fight the trade fair and square, 'pon my word I would."
"'Tis the last time, then, for me. And now I must be traipsin' home-along."
Mr. Polwhele accompanied him to the door. On the step Doubledick turned and said in low tones, his words, however, being distinct in the clear night air:
"Ye'll mind and not take Zacky, sir? I hain't no fancy for blood-money."
"I'll do what I can. Good-night."
He stood for a moment or two watching the innkeeper's receding form, then turned to re-enter the house. But it happened that, in the very act of turning, he caught sight of a dark figure slinking away from a furze bush in Doubledick's wake. He slipped into the house, turned out the lamps in the passage and the room, and in a quarter of a minute came out again, the darkness completely veiling his movements. With swift steps he followed the two figures down the slope, drawing near to the second of them under cover of the bushes. Having assured himself that Doubledick was being deliberately shadowed, he bent low, rapidly made a circuit, and concealed himself behind a clump which the stealthy pursuer must pass. As the man came abreast of him, wholly engrossed in keeping the innkeeper in view, Polwhele suddenly sprang out, caught his victim by the throat so that he could utter no more than the faintest gurgle, and bore him to the ground. Then, whipping out his pistol, he whispered:
"If you make a sound I will shoot you. Get up and come with me."
Keeping a firm hand on the fallen man's collar, he lugged him to his feet, marched him back to the house, and thrust him through the still open door, which he bolted behind him.
"So 'tis you, Jake Tonkin," he said, as he relit the lamp.
"Iss, 'tis I. Let me go, Maister. Doubledick said 'twas I that split, the villain! Let me go. Scrounch me if the two-faced wretch don't suffer for this!"
"I'm afraid I can't let you go yet, my son," said the riding-officer. "Now 'tis no good kicking or shouting. Remain quiet, and in a day or two you shall go, safe and sound. If you give trouble I shall have to deal with you as your folk dealt with Penwarden."
Jake sullenly submitted. Mr. Polwhele gave him supper, then locked him into a room where the window was heavily barred.
"I am sick of this," he thought, as he returned to his own room. "'Tis well Doubledick is going, or, by George, there would be murder."
Next morning Sam Pollex, going down to the village to buy some raisins for a plum-pudding, overtook Susan Berry, John Trevanion's housemaid. "Aw, Ma'am, ye do look wisht, sure enough," said Sam, remarking the gloomy aspect of Maidy Susan's usually merry face.
"And so I be, Sam," she replied, "I wish I were to-home, I do."
"Now that be cruel to we, daze me if it bean't. Why do 'ee wish sech a cruel thing, Ma'am?"
"Why, to-morrer be Christmas Eve, and there'll be no ashton fagot, and no egg-hot, like us have to-home."
"What be they, Maidy?"
"Don't 'ee know that? Why, the fagot be made of ash-sticks tied about wi' nine twigs, and on Christmas Eve 'tis dragged to the Squire's hearth and set ablaze; and then we do dance and jump for cakes, and dive for apples in a tub o' water. Oh, 'tis sech fun, you can't think! And then we drink egg-hot——"
"What's that, if it be so pleasin'?"
"Why, silly chiel, 'tis cider and eggs and spice, made as hot as 'ee can drink it."
"Aw, I know what that is. Mess is what we do name it, and as for fagot, we do call that mock, only it bean't sticks, but a mighty block o' wood. Squire don't hev it now, since he hev been so poor. But why don't 'ee axe yer maister if ye can do as ye do to-home?"
"I don't know what be come to Maister. He be all hippety-like—looks as grave as a church owl, and him goin' to be married, too. Pa'son be goin' to pray for un fust time o' Sunday."
"Well, marriage be a fearsome thing, I s'pose. I seed a weddin' up-along at church once, and theer was a little Noah's flood o' tears. I don't think I'll ever be married."
"You be only a chiel yet. But there now, 'tis ever since Maister brought they great lubbers into house, and gied 'em guns and swords and I don't know what all. Seems he be afeard o' summat. Do 'ee think that monster Boney will come and eat the poor childer here, Sam?"
"Not he. He dussn't do it. Don't 'ee be afeard, now, Maidy dear. I'll look out for un, and if I do see un I'll ring our bell so powerful loud that all the brave men in the country will run to defend 'ee."
"We've got a bell, too."
"Not sech a banger as ours, I warrant 'ee. I do wish Squire were rich; then we'd hev the mock, and a great big figgy pudden, not a little small one wi' half a pound o' figs in it; and Squire would axe 'ee and all the country to come and join us, and ye'd come in yer fine new gown that I'm goin' to gie ye. But theer, 'tis not to be, and 'twill only make us wisht to think o't."
"Look 'ee see, Sam: what a throng o' folk! Whatever is the matter?"
They had come within sight of the village green, where a crowd of men, women, and children were talking excitedly.
"What be all this stoor, Ike?" asked Sam of the young fisher.
"Why, Jake Tonkin can't be found nowhere. He wented up-along yestere'en to wood to get some mistletoe, and never come back."
"Never come back?"
"No. His mother be in a tarrible state, Zacky bein' away and all."
"Sure 'a didn' go wi' Zacky to Rusco?"
"Now that's foolish. Didn' I say 'a wented for mistletoe yestere'en, and Zacky sailed off in mornin'.'
"So 'a did, to be sure. Here's riding-officer; let us tell him."
Mr. Polwhele rode up into the midst of the crowd.
"Well, neighbours, what's to do?" he cried.
"Jake Tonkin be gone a-lost, Maister," shouted a score of voices in answer.
"Lost, is he? He's big enough to take care of himself, surely. Isn't he with his father?"
"No, Maister," piped a small boy. "Zacky Tonkin be——"
"Wisht yer clatter!" cried the child's mother, catching him by the arm and shaking him.
"Who saw him last?" asked the riding-officer.
"Who seed un last?" repeated several voices. "Here be Un Tonkin; she'll tell to we."
"'A wented last night to get mistletoe, sir," said Mrs. Tonkin, with a pale, anxious face. "Never hev he stayed out all night afore, and I be afeard something bad hev come to un."
"Oh, dear no! I can't imagine anything of the kind," said the officer, cheerily. "Don't be down-hearted. He'll come home-along by-and-by as large as life. I'll ride to the wood and look about, and tell my men to search too. The young rascal! Up to some mischief, you may be sure. Go home, my good woman, and don't distress yourself, and you folks, instead of standing gossiping here, go and hunt. Christmas Day is coming, you know, and we must have Jake back in time for the parson's dinner."
But the day closed without the discovery of any trace of the missing lad, and some of Mrs. Tonkin's kind neighbours were already condoling with her on the loss of her only son, and assuring her that Zacky would be in a terrible way when he came home.
Mr. Mildmay and the riding-officer supped together before setting out, the one by sea, the other by land, for the scene of the expected run.
"Would to heaven we had never come to terms with Doubledick!" said Mr. Polwhele. "Never again for me, Mildmay. Set a thief to catch a thief, they say, but I don't know how you feel: I feel myself a mean rascal, old stager as I am at the game."
"Honestly, I agree with you, and having Jake Tonkin mewed up here complicates things desperately. The moment he is let loose he'll tell his father, and if I know the man, Doubledick's life won't be worth a snap of the finger."
"Well, I warned him. I couldn't foresee that Jake would come upon him in that accidental way. Scheme as we will, Mildmay, there's a Power that overrules us all."
"The best thing we can do now is to warn Doubledick. We've gone into partnership with the fellow, and we can't in honour keep silence. Give him a chance to escape."
"You're right. I'll call at the inn as I ride down, and tell him we have Jake locked up here. That will give him about twelve hours' grace—time to clear away bag and baggage."
When the lieutenant went aboard his cutter, Mr. Polwhele entered the inn.
"Where's Doubledick?" he asked of the inn-keeper's wife.
"He be gone along to Trura, Maister," she replied, in her usual vinegary manner.
"What for?"
"Well, I don't know as it be any business o' yourn, but 'tis to buy some figs for the pa'son's dinner."
"Oh, well, if he comes back, tell him I want to see him first thing in the morning, will you?"
"He hain't done nawthin' agen the law."
"I'm glad of that. Don't forget my message."
Mr. Polwhele left, firmly convinced that Doubledick had become suspicious and already beat a retreat.