i had been beaten. i knew it, and the fact maddened me. the old hermit and the maid had divined the thoughts in my mind. in all probability the wine i had drunk was drugged. thus while i was asleep, they had gone away, leaving me alone on the lonely rock. which way had they gone? i knew not. they in the silence of the night had left me, leaving me in entire ignorance.
i looked from the chapel window, and saw a vast tract of country around me, for the moon had risen high in the heavens; then, yielding to the impulse of the moment, i climbed to the highest peak on the great mass of stone. from this point i could see far in all directions, but no signs of life were visible. i could see roche church tower among the trees, i could see the little village near. for the rest, nothing was in sight save vast stretches of moorland. here and there was a cultivated field, but mostly the country-side was barren and forsaken.
i listened, but all was silent. the night was very calm, save for a sighing wind which as it entered a valley near made a low moaning sound. for a moment a superstitious dread laid hold on me. i remembered the story i had been told years before. it was said that the last heir of the tregarrick family, on whose lands the rock stood,[pg 169] became weary of life, built the chapel in which old anthony had taken up his abode, and called it st. michael's chapel. here he lived many years and died in sorrow. rumour also had it that tregeagle's spirit, that ogre of cornish childhood, haunted the rock and the moors, and often breathed forth his sorrow in sighs and moans. but i mastered my fears by an effort. i remembered how i had been beaten, and anger drove all other feelings away. the last heir of the tregarricks and the spirit of tregeagle was nothing to me, living or dead.
i looked at my watch, and by the light of the moon discovered that it was midnight. i had, therefore, been asleep for ten hours. darkness came on about six o'clock, so that in all probability they had left me long hours before. i racked my brains sorely in order to divine the direction they had taken, but without avail. then i remembered that they must need horses, and wondered how they managed. i felt sure, however, that uncle anthony would be too full of devices to remain long in difficulty about horseflesh. as he had said, many horses grazed among the moors; they were of no great value, but doubtless he could obtain a couple that would serve his purpose. one they had already, on which amelia lanteglos had ridden, a useful animal which benet killigrew had taken from his father's stables. this set me thinking again, and without more ado i cautiously crept down to the moors. giving a long shrill whistle which i had taught chestnut to obey, i awaited results. in a few seconds i[pg 170] heard the sound of horse's hoofs; then in a short space of time the animal i had learnt to love came up to me, and with a whinny of gladness began to lick my hand.
"ah, chestnut, old boy," i laughed, "at any rate they could not steal you from me. which way are they gone, my lad?"
as though he understood me, he turned his head southward.
"well, chestnut," i said, "i want to find them badly. you know which way they went. i leave everything to you."
whereupon, i went to the hollow place under the rock into which i had thrown my saddle, and to my delight i found that uncle anthony had left both saddle and bridle untouched. a few seconds later i was on chestnut's back.
"follow them, chestnut," i said; "i leave everything to you," and as though he understood me, he carefully picked his way among the rocks till he reached the highway, then without hesitation went westward towards the church. presently we came to some cross-ways, where he hesitated, but only for a second. putting his nose to the ground he sniffed uneasily around and then started on a brisk trot southward.
when i had gone perhaps three miles, all my hopes had departed. if the truth must be told, too, i felt more and more like giving up what seemed a useless quest. in spite of chestnut choosing the southward road in preference to any other, i was very probably riding away from the maid nancy and her companions, and even if[pg 171] i were not, what should i gain by following them?
"let her go," i cried bitterly. "it has been an ill game i have been playing—an ill game. let uncle anthony take her whither he will."
but this feeling did not long possess me. for the first time since i had seen the maid, the promise i had made to peter trevisa became really binding; moreover, i hated the thought of being beaten. if i gave up at this point, i should never cease to reproach myself with being outwitted by a girl, and it was not my nature to accept defeat easily. besides, i was curious to see what the end of the business would be. in spite of myself i was interested in the maid. i admired her coolness and her far-sightedness. even though i was angry with her for calling me a traitor, her very feeling of distrust of me made me sure she was no ordinary schoolgirl. nay, i carried my conclusions further. the intuition that warned her against deceit, the power by which she made me stammer like a boy, and hang my head like a thief, convinced me that here was a pure-hearted maid, and one who might be trusted.
a little later i came to st. denis, but, as chestnut showed no inclination to halt, i rode straight on. i did not guide him in the least, and although i felt myself foolish in allowing him to take the st. stephen's road, i laid no weight on the bridle rein.
while passing through a little hamlet called trethosa, the morning began to dawn, and by the time i had reached st. stephen's it was broad[pg 172] daylight. i found a little inn in the village close by the churchyard gates, called the king's arms. here, in spite of the fact that chestnut seemed as if he would go on, i stopped. the truth was, i felt hungry and faint, and i knew that my horse would be all the better for a gallon or two of oats and a good grooming. the landlord's name i discovered to be bill best, and i found him very communicative, which is not a common trait among cornishmen. he told me his history with great freedom, also that of his wife. he related to me the circumstances of his courtship, and mentioned the amount of his wife's dowry.
"'tis a grand thing to have a good wife," i remarked.
"'tes, and ted'n," was his reply.
i asked him to explain.
"well i be a man that do like my slaip, i be. when i caan't slaip ov a night, i be oal dazey droo the day. why now i be as dazey as can be. ordnarly i be a very cute man, avin a oncommon amount of sense. ax our passon. why, 'ee'll tell 'ee that as a boy i cud leck off catechism like bread'n trycle. but since i've bin married i caan't slaip."
"why, does your wife keep you awake?"
"no, ted'n that. tes the cheldern. but my betsey cud slaip through a earthquake, and zo tes, that all droo the night there's a passel of cheldern squallin, keepin' me wake. laast night, now, i 'ardly slaiped for the night."
"indeed," i replied, "and was it your children last night?"
[pg 173]
"paartly," he replied, "paartly the cheldern, and paartly summin else. be you a gover'ment man?"
"no."
"nothin' toal of a passon nuther, i spects?"
"no, why?"
"well now i'll tell 'ee. but law, ere be your 'am rashers and eggs. haive to em now. they rashers ded cum from a pig thirty-score wight, the beggest in this parish. look top the graavy too; they'll make yore uzzle like a trumpet fer sweetness. ait em and i'll tell 'ee while you be feedin'. but law, ther's nuff fer boath ov us, i can allays craake better wen i'm aitin'."
accordingly he sat down by my side and helped himself liberally.
"well, naow, as i woz a-zayin'," he continued, "i ded'n go to bed till laate laast night. i was avin a bit of tolk weth the 'ow'll martin ovver to kernick. do you know martin?"
"no."
"doan't 'ee fer sure, then? he's a purty booy, 'ee es. years agone 'ee used to stail sheep in a coffin. stoal scores an scores that way. ave 'ee 'eerd ow 'ee nacked ovver the exciseman, then?"
"no."
"ded'n 'ee? law, that wos a purty taale, that wos. 'twud maake 'ee scat yer zides weth laffin. but there, you genlemen waan't care to do that. wot wos us talkin' bout, then?"
"you said you couldn't sleep last night."
"to be zure i ded. i'll tell 'ee. old martin[pg 174] do do a bit ov smugglin', and do dail weth the smugglers, and as you be'ant a gover'ment man i may tell 'ee that he brought me a vew ankers of things laast night laate. he ded'n laive me till after twelve o'clock. well, when 'ee wos gone off i went to bed, and wos just going off to slaip when our tryphena beginned a squall. that zet off casteena, and casteena off tamzin, and in a vew minutes the 'ouse wos like bedlam. you be'ant married, be 'ee, sur?"
"no."
"then you doan knaw nothin bout life, you doan't. gor jay! ow they cheldern ded screech for sure. but they ded'n waake mauther, not they. she slaiped through et oal, and snored like a tomcat into the bargain. aw she's a gefted wumman, my wife es. but owsummever, i got em off again arter a bit and got into bed again. i wos just gittin braave'n slaipy when i 'eerd the sound of osses comin from kernick way. 'gor jay!' ses i, 'tes the exciseman! he've bin fer ould martin and now he's comin fer me.'"
at this i became interested. "the sound of horses," i said; "were they coming fast?"
"aw iss, braave coose, but not gallopin'. well i lied luff and wos oal ov a sweat, but twadd'n no excisemen t'oal, fer just as they got by the church gates they stopped for a minit."
"what time was this?"
"aw 'bout haaf-past two or dree o'clock. well, i 'eerd 'em talkin', and arter a bit i 'eerd a wumman spaik, so you may be sure i pricked up my ears like a greyhound when he do 'ear a [pg 175]spaniel yelp among the vuss bushes. so up i gits and looks out."
"well, and what did you see?"
"a man and two wimmen."
"ah!" i cried.
"well, they ded'n stay long, for one of the wimmen zaid they wos vollied. she must a 'ad sharp ears, for i ded'n 'ear nothin'."
"which way did they go?"
"they zeemed unaisy, when i 'eerd the man zay they wud go on to scacewater, an' then turn back to penhale."
"well?" i cried eagerly, "go on."
"aw, i thot i cud maake 'ee hark. well, i 'eerd em go up by sentry, and then go on terras way, purty coose."
"is that all?"
"well, after that i cudden slaip, and i jist lied and lied for long time, and then i'eerd sum more osses comin'. 'gor jay!' ses i, 'wot's the mainen ov this?' i got out abed again, mauther slaipin' oal the time, and arkened with oal the ears i 'ad."
"and what happened?"
"why, i zeed three hossmen ride long, and they galloped arter the others as ef they'd knawed which way they went."
"and is that all?"
"ed'n that nuff? i cudden slaip a wink arterwards. fust, i thot they might be the french, then i thot they might be ghoasts, but i tell 'ee it maade me oal luny, and 'eer i be this mornin', weth not aaf my sharpness. wy i tell 'ee, sur, i be a uncommon man ordnarly."
[pg 176]
i asked the landlord many other questions, but although he informed me many things about the roads, he could tell me nothing more about the midnight travellers. however, i had heard enough to assure me that i had come on the track of my late companions, and i was also assured that the maid nancy was being pursued by the killigrews.
"where and what is penhale?" i asked presently.
"penhale, sur, is one of the five manor 'ouses in the parish. maaster trewint es the oaner ov et. it 'ave bin in the family for scores a years."
"i wonder if that will be one of uncle anthony's hiding-places?" i mused, "if it is, he hath doubtless taken mistress nancy there, and is probably there now, unless the killigrews have relieved him of his charge."
"is trewint the squire of your parish?" i asked bill best.
"well, sur, ther eden no squire so to spaik. but 'ees a well-connected man, sur. why, he do belong to the tregarrick family, which ded once own oal roche."
this set me thinking again. uncle anthony had told me that he was a gentleman; he had hinted that his family was as good as my own why had he taken up his abode at roche rock, which had belonged to the tregarricks? was there any meaning in his going to mr. trewint, who was related to the tregarricks? these and many other questions troubled me for a long time.
[pg 177]
after considering the whole situation for an hour or more, i determined to find my way to penhale and there make inquiries. i thought it better to go there afoot, first because the distance was scarcely two miles, and second because i desired to attract no attention. leaving the manor house of resugga on my left, i walked on until i came to a little wooded dell in which two houses were built. here i stayed awhile, arrested by the beauty of the scene. the place was called terras, and was very fair to look upon. a little stream purled its way down the valley, under giant trees, and filled as my mind was with many things, i could but stop and listen to the music of the water as it mingled with the sound of rustling leaves overhead. as i passed on, i saw the miners working in the moors. they were tin-streamers, and were, so i was told, making riches rapidly. after this i stopped at a farm called trelyon, from whence i could see trelyon downs. here legend had it giants lived, and streamed the moors for minerals, and made bargains with the devil in order that success might attend their labours. after leaving trelyon i was not long in reaching penhale, a house of considerable size and importance, and here i stopped and looked about me. the house was comparatively new and very substantial, while signs of prosperity were everywhere to be seen. fine trees grew all around, and the gardens were well planted. evidently a well-to-do yeoman lived here.
i tried to think of an excuse for entering, but presently gave up the idea. if uncle anthony[pg 178] and mistress nancy were there it would not be well for them to know my whereabouts; and yet if i were to fulfil my promise to peter trevisa, and thus retain trevanion, i must know if they were behind the walls which looked as though they might hide mysteries.
very soon i bethought me of the stables, and was just starting to find them, when i saw a well-fed, portly man come out of the front door.
"jack," he shouted.
"yes, sur," replied a voice.
"bring my horse." on saying this he entered the house again.
the place was perfectly silent, save for the stamping of horses' hoofs and the bleat of sheep in the distance. from the spot on which i stood i could easily see and hear without being seen.
presently the man, whom i took to be the owner of the place, came to the door again, and this time some one accompanied him, although whoever it was kept out of sight.
"well, i must be going. you say i shall not be seeing you again."
i could not hear the murmured reply.
"well, have your own way. i have heard of the old chapel and well in st. mawgan, where it is said an old priest lives; but man, you are safer here."
after this i heard nothing, and a little later the owner of the place rode away. i waited until he was well out of hearing, when i found my way to the stables. in the stableyard i saw the man who had brought his master's horse to the door.
[pg 179]
"is your master at home?" i asked.
"no sur; missus es."
"ah, well, she'll be of no use. she wouldn't know if mr. trewint has a horse for sale."
on this i entered the stable, and to my delight saw the animal amelia lanteglos had ridden from endellion, with two others.
"maaster 'aant got noan for sale," replied the man. "we're right in the tealin' time, and oal the hosses be in use."
"how's that?" i replied; "here are three doing nothing. one of these would suit me. i can call again when your master will be at home."
"it'll be no good, sur. maaster waant be 'ome till laate to-night. he's gone to st. austell market, and afore he do git back thaise hosses'll be gone. they'll be out of the staable by haalf-past nine this ev'nin'. i've got oaders to saddle 'em at that time."
i seemed to be in luck's way. by pure chance, so it seemed to me, i had found out the whereabouts of mistress nancy and her companions, and had also discovered their destination. so without asking more questions i left penhale, and then walked back to st. stephen's along a footpath which led by a farm called tolgarrick, and the manor house of resugga.
i formed my plan of action. i would be even with uncle anthony for the trick he had played me, and i would take the maid nancy to peter trevisa's house, for both had angered me. and yet even at this time my heart revolted against the course i had marked out.
[pg 180]
by nine o'clock that night i stood outside penhale with chestnut by my side. i chose a sheltered position, and i felt sure that no one knew i was there. i waited anxiously, and watched the stable doors closely. half-past nine came, and i grew anxious; ten o'clock passed, and all was silent as the grave. had the groom deceived me? had uncle anthony discovered my visit and formed new plans accordingly.
bidding chestnut stand still, i crept cautiously towards the stables. a few seconds later i saw to my chagrin that i had been outwitted. the horses i had seen in the morning had gone.
"never mind," i said grimly, "i'll not give up yet."
i mounted chestnut and rode westward in the direction in which i thought st. mawgan lay; but i had not gone far when i again came to a standstill. if uncle anthony had suspected me, and changed the time of his departure, might he not also alter his plans completely? besides, even though he intended going to the old chapel at st. mawgan, it was impossible for me to find it that night. clouds had obscured the sky, and i was ignorant of the country. at eleven o'clock, therefore, i drew up at an inn at a village called summercourt, disappointed and angry. here i decided to remain for the night.