Chapter THE NINTH: Doubledick's Midnight Guests

"Who's that?" cried Trevanion.

Dick, being on the offside, was concealed by the driver's burly form, but he shrank back against the front of the carriage. He did not wish to meet his cousin's eyes at that moment, and began to wonder why he was on the box in the rain when he might have ridden inside.

"Axin' yer pardon, sir," replied the coachman, "I be afeard I've took the wrong road. 'Tis 'nation dark, and my lamp has gone out."

"What was that clattering of horses I heard?"

"Ah, I can't tell 'ee that. I didn't see no one. Maybe 'twas riding-officer. I axe yer pardon for disturbin' ye, sir, this terrible bad night and all, and I'll drive on to village."

"You're a stranger, aren't you? Have you got anybody in your carriage?"

"Never a soul, sir. The truth is, I've lost my way, and shan't be sorry to get out o' this pesty rain."

"'Tis heavier now. Well, good-night. You'll find a warm room in the inn at the foot of the hill, if the innkeeper hasn't raked out the fire and gone to bed. Good-night."

He retreated with his guttering candle into the house and shut the door, the coachman driving back to the high road. Dick was mystified. Why had the man denied having a passenger? Why had he extinguished his light and turned out of the road on hearing horsemen? The driver said nothing, except to grumble under his breath at the weather, and Dick refrained from questioning him, thinking that some light might be thrown on the mystery when they reached the inn.

The carriage had just wheeled into the road when Dick felt a touch on his right arm. He looked round: the passenger was leaning forward out of the window.

"How is ze name of zat man--him zat hold ze light?" asked the stranger eagerly.

Dick hesitated; then, seeing no reason for not answering, said: "That is Mr. John Trevanion."

"Tre--vat say you, if you please?"

"Trevanion."

"Trevanion!" repeated the questioner, giving a strange intonation to the name. "Ah! Shank you."

He withdrew his head into the carriage. Dick heard the driver mutter:

"Why can't he clap a stopper on his tongue, the stunpoll!"

He drove slowly down the steep winding hill.

"There's the inn," said Dick presently. "Doubledick isn't abed, late as it is."

A light shone through the red blind of the inn parlour. The door was open, and Doubledick stood in the doorway, illuminated by the light behind. In spite of the heavy rain several men, among whom Dick distinguished the elder Tonkin, were grouped about the door. They had heard the wheels of the oncoming carriage, and there were signs of excitement among them. As the vehicle drew up, Tonkin stepped forward, thrust his head in, uttered a smothered exclamation, then opened the door hastily. The eyes of all the men were fixed on the figure that emerged, so that Dick on the box was not noticed. A short, broad man, clad in a long overcoat, his cocked hat pulled low over his brow, descended from the carriage and went quickly into the inn, the men following him. The door was shut. Feeling that he was in a somewhat false position, Dick seized the opportunity to slip down from his seat and withdraw round the angle of the wall, where a flight of steps ascended between it and the wall of the opposite house. He heard Tonkin speaking to the driver; the carriage rumbled over the cobbles, not returning up the hill, but going through the village in the opposite direction. Immediately afterwards the inn door was reopened, the heavy boots of the fishers clumped along the street, and in a few moments nothing was to be heard except the pattering of the rain.

Dick felt a little sore at having to trudge back afoot, without a word of thanks. He was drenched to the skin. Glancing behind as he began to climb the hill, he saw that the light had now disappeared from the inn-room. The whole village was in darkness. More than ever dispirited and mystified, he plodded along. Apparently the carriage had been expected. He could not help connecting it with the horsemen whom the driver had been so anxious to avoid, and, remembering the strange accent of the passenger, it suddenly flashed upon him that the man might be one of Boney's spies, whom he had unwittingly helped to escape pursuers. But on reflection this idea seemed untenable, because a spy was hardly likely to appear at this remote part of the coast, and he could not believe that the smugglers of Polkerran, like those of the south-eastern counties, had any treasonable communications with the French ogre.

He was still pondering on the baffling occurrence when the sound of horses trotting again fell on his ear. In a few moments he had to stand aside to avoid being knocked down by the first of half-a-dozen horsemen, whom, dark as it was, he recognised by their headdress to be soldiers. Their uniforms were covered by their riding cloaks. He was seen as he shrank back: a rough voice called "Halt!" and the horsemen reined up.

"Stand forth, in the King's name, and answer for your life," said the same voice.

Dick went towards the foremost horseman.

"Who are you?" he was asked.

"My name is Trevanion," he replied.

"Ah! Same as the gentleman up the hill," cried the soldier. "Now, tell us quick; have you seen a coach, wagon, or other four-wheeled piece of machinery hereabouts?"

"Yes; a two-horsed carriage drove down to the inn yonder about twenty minutes ago."

"What road did she come?"

"This very road that you're on."

"Confusion on it! Then how did we miss the thing? But there, no matter; we'll after it and catch the villain."

Without more delay the sergeant and his men clattered off down the hill, relieving Dick of the necessity of giving explanations, which he felt might be somewhat awkward. Being now thoroughly excited, he forgot his fatigue and wetness, and ran after the dragoons to see what happened when they reached the inn. He was but a minute or two behind them. The village was still in complete darkness; the rain had ceased, and the moon showed her rim through a rift in the scudding clouds.

The troopers were at the door of the inn, five still on horseback; the sixth had dismounted and was rapping on the door with the hilt of his sword.

"Hang me, will he never open?" cried the man, when repeated blows drew no response.

"Must be a rare sleeper, to be sure," said another.

"I'll bust the lock with a shot from my carbine if he don't open soon," cried the angry sergeant. "This is some jiggery-pokery, sure as I'm alive."

He thundered again on the door, calling upon the innkeeper with many imprecations to open in the King's name. At last there was the sound of a casement opening above. Looking up, the troopers saw first a blunderbuss, then an arm, and finally a head in a white nightcap.

"Who be that a-bangin' and smitin' at an honest man's door, when he be abed and asleep?" demanded Doubledick's voice angrily.

"'Tis for you to answer questions, not to axe 'em," said the sergeant. "Now, speak like a true man, and hide nothing, or the King will have your miserable head. Did a carriage come down the hill a while ago?"

"Oh, if ye be King's men I bean't afeard o' ye. A carriage? Why, to be sure 'a did, a half-hour ago, or maybe more."

"And where is it now?"

"There's a question to axe a poor simple soul wi' only two eyes. How be I to know that, captain, on a dark night like this?"

"Be hanged to you! You know whether it stayed or went on, and you'd best speak up without any shilly-shally."

"True. I do know that. The carriage went on, to be sure."

"Which way? Speak up."

"Well, I can't 'zackly say, but 'twarn't up the hill, so I reckon 'twas through village towards Redruth. Iss, I reckon 'twas that."

"And the man inside?"

"Daze me if ever I knowed of any man inside. Driver had lost his way, seemingly; 'a was like a squashed turmit in the rain: and when he'd took summat to comfort his innards, off-along he drove. Warn't here five minutes, no, nor yet four."

"'Tis treason-felony and hangman's job if you're not speaking the truth," said the sergeant. "Confusion take him, we'll have to ride on. Look here, Tom; you stay here with Matthew and keep your eye on the door. The rest of us will ride on after the carriage, and come back to you if we catch our man."

"What rascal of a deserter be you a-chasin' by night, captain?" cried Doubledick.

"No deserter, but a prisoner that escaped from Plymouth. We've been after him all day and all night, and smite me if it don't seem he has given us the slip. Come on, men."

The sergeant rode off with three of his men, the other two dismounting and taking up their stand at the door.

"I reckon I can go back to my warm bed now, eh, sojers?" said Doubledick. "But ye're sappy wet, poor fellers, and tired too, to be sure, hikin' arter a runaway prisoner all day and all night. Bide a minute till I've pulled a few garments on my cold limbs, and I'll come down and give 'ee summat to warm yerselves."

The nightcap disappeared, a candle was lighted, and in a few minutes Doubledick came to the door with two steaming beakers of hot brandy and water, which the troopers accepted gratefully.

Dick, from the shadow of an alley, had seen and heard all that went on. The soldiers chatted with the innkeeper for a while; then he retired into the inn, shut the door, and put out the light.

A minute or two afterwards Dick saw a figure stealing down the steps at the side of the inn, peep round the corner, and then retreat hastily. He supposed it was one of the men whom he had seen at the door previously, but was unable to distinguish his features, owing to the deep shadows thrown on the alley-steps by the moon. To avoid discovery himself, he shrank back against the blind wall. It must now, he thought, be nearly midnight; but, wet though he was, he determined not to leave the spot until he had seen how the matter ended. Having been behind the wall when the carriage drove away, he was not sure whether the passenger had re-entered it or not. The hurried manner in which the man had gone into the inn was not that of one who intended coming forth again. Doubledick had lied when he said that he knew nothing of the occupant of the carriage; yet why should he harbour an escaped prisoner, who was almost certainly a Frenchman? The mystery was deeper than ever.

It was perhaps an hour later, and Dick was on the point of going home, when the silence of the night was again broken by the sharp ringing clatter of hoofs. The sergeant and his three men returned, a white mist rising from their horses' backs.

"We caught the carriage," said the sergeant, as he rode up, "but 'twas empty as a sucked egg. The driver said he'd lost his way on the moor coming from Truro, and was going on home to Redruth. Have you seen anything?"

"Not a thing," replied one of the troopers at the door.

"Well, we must search the inn. What a miserable fool I was not to ask that young feller if there was any one in the carriage when he saw it!"

Dick hesitated for a moment. Should he tell what he knew? A French prisoner was an enemy of his country; might it not be his duty to help the dragoons to capture him? But reflecting that the man might be nothing worse than a smuggler, in which case to inform against him would only embitter the inimical feeling of the villagers against him, besides being an ungracious act in itself, he decided to say nothing.

After a long-continued knocking and the expenditure of much abusive language, Doubledick once more opened the door.

"Ye'll gie me the rheumatiz and send me to my grave," he said with a whine. "What be ye rampin' men o' war wantin' now?"

"We're going to search your inn for that there mounseer, my fine feller, and you'd best take it quiet, or you'll find yourself strapped to one of our hosses and carried with all your bones a-rattling afore the Colonel."

"Search, if ye must. Name it all, why should I hinder 'ee! Turn the inn topsy-versy, ye'll find nothing but maybe a rat or a cockroach."

The sergeant and two of the troopers entered. They searched the tap-room, the inn-parlour, kitchen, cellars, bedrooms, lofts; rummaged cupboards, empty barrels, a clock-case, the copper in the scullery, an overturned water butt in the backyard; all to no purpose.

"He's not here, that's certain," said the sergeant at last, dashing the perspiration from his brow. "We must have overshot the villain somehow. Plague on it! We shall have to ride back to Truro and try to get on his tracks, or the Colonel will be in a rare passion."

"I won't ask 'ee to stay, brave men," said Doubledick, "knowing what terrible rages noble officers do fly into. But a nibleykin o' real old stingo won't do 'ee no harm, and ye can drink confusion to Boney. Hee! hee!"

All the soldiers accepted the liquor with alacrity, and the two who had already tasted its quality winked at each other, not acquainting their comrades with their previous pleasurable experience. Smacking their lips and declaring that the innkeeper was a real good-hearted fellow, they remounted and rode up the hill. Doubledick watched them until they were out of sight, a leer of triumph on his face. Dick heard him chuckle as he shut the door and shuffled up the stairs. The light was extinguished, and Dick, vexed with himself for remaining so long and so unprofitably, set off homeward in the track of the dragoons.

A few minutes after he had left, a heavily-cloaked figure--the same that Dick had seen a while before--stole down the steps at the side of the inn, and, looking round cautiously, approached the door and rapped six times upon it, pausing a brief while after every second tap. Immediately after the sixth, the casement above opened, and Doubledick, looking out, said in a hoarse whisper:

"Be that you, Zacky?"

"No, 'tis I, John Trevanion. Come down and let me in, Doubledick."

"Good sakes, I didn' know 'ee was to home, Maister John. Thought 'ee was still in Lunnon town. A pretty stoor there's been to-night. Bide a minute, sir."

He lit his candle, descended, let Trevanion in, and barred the door behind him.

"I never thought you were such a fool," said Trevanion, angrily eyeing the nightcapped and nightgowned innkeeper. "What on earth possessed you to harbour Delarousse?"

"Chok' it all, why shouldn't I?" replied Doubledick truculently. "Bean't he a good friend of ourn? Who better?"

"Confound you, he's a Frenchman, and a runaway prisoner. The soldiers will get on his track again, and your ridiculous folly will be the ruin of us all. You have no business to run such risks."

In his anger Trevanion raised his voice.

"Risks, do 'ee say? Jown me if you hain't run risks yerself, Maister John, and a deal bigger; hee! hee!"

"Silence!" shouted Trevanion. "Don't provoke me, or upon my soul and body I'll----"

The threat died on his lips, for at this moment a door opened at the further end of the passage in which they stood, and there appeared the short, rotund form of the passenger who had descended from the carriage some hours before. The overcoat and the cocked hat were gone; the Frenchman wore the rough fustian, marked with a broad arrow, in which the authorities arrayed prisoners. His eyes gleamed with the fire of hatred as he looked full at Trevanion, who on his part returned glare for glare, but whose countenance wore a strange expression, which Doubledick, watching him, could not fathom.

"It is you," said the Frenchman, in his own tongue. "You, Robinson--or Trevanion, is it not so?"

"You be known to each other, then?" said Doubledick. "Hee! hee! Why don't 'ee shake hands, like friends?"

"Silence!" cried the Frenchman sternly. "You go," he added, addressing Doubledick in English. "I haf somezink to say to zis monsieur--Trevanion."

He took the candle from the astonished inn-keeper's hand, and motioned to Trevanion to enter the parlour. Following him, he shut and bolted the door, leaving Doubledick in the dark passage. The innkeeper promptly knelt down and put his ear to the keyhole, but since he knew almost nothing of French, he understood little of the ensuing dialogue, which was conducted in that tongue.

"You see I have found you, monsieur--Trevanion," said Delarousse. "You thought, no doubt, that you had escaped me when you landed that dark night. But you should not have come to Polkerran; that was a foolish step for one so clever to take. You would have been caught, but for a sudden alarm from the shore; yet it mattered little that I had to sail away then, for, as you see, I have found you--cheat, thief, scoundrel!"

Trevanion did not flinch as the Frenchman hissed these words at him. He thrust his hand into the breast pocket of his cloak.

"Aha!" laughed Delarousse. "You have a pistol? I have not. You would like to shoot me, but you dare not. I should like to shoot you, but I have no weapon, and, equally, if I had, I dare not. I will not hang for you: so you deal in this country with men that kill others, is it not so? But I tell you, Trevanion--that is a name I do not forget--I tell you that you shall not escape. It is not the time now, but there will come a day when you shall repent of having deceived and robbed the man who trusted you. Once more I tell you what you are: cheat, thief, scoundrel!"

"Pretty words, monsieur," said Trevanion with a sneer. "You had better take warning. This country is not safe for Frenchmen. You have escaped from prison, by some piece of imbecile folly----"

"Not so," interposed Delarousse. "It was by the skill of good friends, who are loyal to one that has done business loyally with them. They would have taken me to Roscoff in their lugger, and tried to dissuade me when I said that I should come here. But they helped me. One of them risked his neck to drive me here, and my true friends have guarded me. I came to assure myself that the man who called himself Robinson lives here in this village. I saw you from the carriage when you stood at your door; I learnt your real name, and now, once more I say it, I will wait my time, and you shall pay for your knavery."

"I care nothing for your threats. You have been lucky to escape once; you will not escape a second time. Set foot on this shore again and the whole country will rise at you. Expect no mercy from me."

"Mercy! From you! Mon Dieu, is it you that talk of mercy?"

He broke off, and let out a gust of harsh, sardonic laughter. Then, thrusting himself forward, he cried:

"Bah! I spit at you! When all men know you as I know you there will be no talk of mercy. Are you fool as well as villain? Go! Return to your fine house. Flourish on my money. It shall be for a season, and then!----"

Trevanion bit his lip. His expression told of a struggle for self-control. He glared at the Frenchman for a few moments; then, with a hollow laugh, he moved towards the door.

"Do your worst," he said, turning with his hand on the bolt. "I am in England; I defy you; and, by heaven! I promise you ten feet of English rope as a spy 'if you dare to show yourself here again."

He drew back the bolt, causing Doubledick to scuttle like a rat along the passage. A mocking laugh followed Trevanion as he strode from the inn.

Before there was the least hint of dawn in the sky, a man, unrecognisable in oilskins and sou'-wester, stole from the house next to the inn, where he had been concealed when the dragoons made their search, and walked rapidly to the jetty. Tonkin's lugger, the _Isaac and Jacob_, lay alongside. Delarousse stepped on board; the vessel cast off; and by the time that the mass of the villagers were awake, the guest, whose presence few had known, was several leagues nearer to the French shore.

But the departure of the lugger had not been wholly unobserved. In the little white cottage on the cliff, Joe Penwarden had enjoyed a full night's sleep, as he usually did when the moon was up. The sound of horses on the high road did not reach him, and he was ignorant of the strange happenings in the village. But the moon was in its last quarter; the "darks" would soon return, and with them the activity of the smugglers might be expected to be resumed. The cargoes were sometimes brought from Roscoff in French luggers, sometimes in the _Isaac and Jacob_, and Penwarden was accustomed to watch the sailings of Tonkin's vessel. On this particular morning he woke early, and after he had kindled a fire, he rested his telescope on the window-sill to take a look round while the kettle was boiling. He soon spied the well-known lugger scudding along under full sail.

"So you be at it again, Zacky," he murmured with a chuckle, as he shut the telescope. "Well, please God, I'll be ready for 'ee."