THE WISDOM OF GOSSIPING WITH AN INNKEEPER.
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, 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
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 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
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?"
"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 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 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."
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.
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 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.
"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.
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.