"Where es a now, then?" queried Betsey.

"He's lyin' luff in Fammuth town, my deear; but 'ee must be very careful."

At this I breathed more freely again.

"I'm a kind man," continued Cap'n Jack; "I've bin kind to you, Betsey. I knaw that ef you've got they dreckshuns you've kipt 'em for Eli. But, Betsey, my deear, 'ee caan't do nothin' by hisself. We'll share fair, Betsey; I'll give my Bible oath to that."

"I taake no noatice ov yur Bible oaths," snarled Betsey, "but I knaw you'd kipt to what yer promised. Ef you ded'n, I'd make yer flesh drop off yer boans bit by bit; I'd make yer joints twist wrong way 'bout; I'd make 'ee suffer pains wuss'n the fires ov the bottomless pit; I'd raise the sperrits of—"

"Doan't 'ee, Betsey," cried Cap'n Jack, and his voice trembled with fear. "I knaw you be a gifted woman; I knaw you can do terrible things. Ef there's a treasure, Betsey, laive me vind et, and Eli sh'll live in the finest state o' land in this blessed county."

"I'll think 'bout it. I caan't raid, that you knaw—but, but come out 'ere in the gar'n, Jack."

With that, Billy Coad, Cap'n Jack, and Betsey went into the garden, while Eli sat by the chimney and chuckled as though a great joy had come into his heart.

They did not stay long, and I suspected that Betsey told them something she did not wish me to know. When they came back again I heard Betsey tell Eli to fetch the crock and brandis into the middle of the room.

After that Betsey blew on the pot again, as I had seen her blow, and she made the two men repeat things after her which I did not hear distinctly, and all the time I heard Eli chuckling and grunting as though he enjoyed himself vastly.

After this all the four went into the garden, and they stayed there a long while, leaving me to muse over the strange things I had heard. Not that it came altogether as a surprise to me, for I had often heard of Granfer Fraddam knowing something about a treasure. I do not think any one had taken much notice of it, for there were scores of meaningless stories about lost treasures that passed from lip to lip among the gossips in the days when I was young.

Now, however, that which I had heard caused me much food for thought, and I wondered whether there was any truth in the story. I determined, too, that I would ask Eli, for I believed that what Betsey knew he would know. I saw, too, that he loved me, and I was sure that he was anxious to serve me.

When Betsey and Eli came back the two men had gone, and then I came from my hiding-place, and began to ply them with questions. But neither of them would give me answers. Betsey seemed very thoughtful, while Eli pulled some sacks from under the settle, so that I might have a bed.

Before Betsey climbed the creaky stairs which led to the room where she slept, she fixed her whitey, shining eyes upon me, and, holding up her hand, she bade me be silent about what I had seen and heard.

"Ef you tell, Jasper Penninton," she croaked, "ef you tell—you've eerd ov fallin' flesh a'ant 'ee? Well, think ov it."

"I shall say nothing," I replied.

"No," she said, continuing to look steadily on me, "no, you wa'ant. I c'n zee you wa'ant."

Then she left me, while I lay down on the sacks fearing nothing living, but fearing the dead terribly. For it seemed to me as though Betsey had been doing that which was unlawful, and that I was a party to her plans. And so I could not sleep for a long time; not, indeed, until the light of morning began to stream through the cottage window, and then I felt to laugh at it all. Betsey's signs and Betsey's words were so much foolery, while the conversation about the buried treasure was no more true than the stories which were believed in superstitious days. Besides, thoughts of Naomi drove away all else, although everything came back to me afterward. When my fears went, however, sleep came to my eyes, and I did not awake until I felt Eli fondling my hands, and heard him telling me that breakfast was ready.

Then I arose, upbraiding myself for having slept so long, for I had intended finding my way to Pennington in the early morning. I know this seemed very foolish, for if the Tresidders found me on the land they called theirs all my purposes would be frustrated.

"Breakfas', breakfas', Jasper," said Eli.

"No, I'm going out," I replied.

"Ted'n no use, ted'n no use," grunted the poor dwarf, "she ed'n there."

"Where is she, then?"

"Jist agone by, ridin' to Fammuth town."

"How do you know?"

"I zeed um. She and Maaster Tresidder, and Maaster Nick Tresidder, and Miss Em'ly."

"Are you sure, Eli?"

"Iss."

Then I quickly ate what had been prepared for me, and when I had given Betsey a guinea out of the few I had been able to earn during the time I had been away, I tramped to Falmouth. I arrived there in less than two hours from the time I had left Betsey's cottage, trying to make plans as I went. I walked up and down Falmouth street several times, all the time looking around in the hopes of finding her, not because I could do anything if I found her, but because I longed greatly to see her, longed more than words can tell. At length noonday came and still my eyes continued to ache for a sight of her, while my heart grew heavy. I found, too, that the streets became more and more crowded every minute, until I asked myself if it were a fair. But such was not the case. The reason of the crowd was that Mr. John Wesley had come to Falmouth, and his coming had caused a great uproar. I heard all sorts of stories about him, and many were the threats that were made. Some said he was a Papist, who wanted to bring back Popery to the country, while others declared that he wanted to raise a rebellion against the king and crown. Several clergymen from distant parishes had come into the town, and these, almost without exception, were very bitter toward him; while the publicans, who did a very big trade that day because of his coming, cried out against him very loudly. On the other hand, I heard that many people had come because of the great good he had done, and because through him they had been led, to use their own language, to become new creatures. This I will say, those who befriended Mr. Wesley seemed very steady folks. They used no bad language, neither were they mad with drink as many of the others were.

I did not pay as much heed to the state of the town as I might have paid under other circumstances, for I cared for little but the sight of Naomi's face, while to hear her voice I felt I would give anything.

Now as I walked disconsolately along the street, finding my way among the crowd that grew greater and greater, I stopped outside a linen-draper's shop, which was kept by one Humphry Bolitho, and to my great joy I saw Naomi coming therefrom. By her side was Emily Tresidder, and I was wondering how I could speak to my love, when the woman in the shop called Richard Tresidder's daughter back just as Naomi's eyes met mine.

She gave no start of surprise at seeing me, so that even then I was sure that the Tresidders knew of my return, but she seemed, I thought, in doubt as to whether she should speak to me. But I had found my opportunity, and I determined not to be baulked in my purpose, especially as Emily Tresidder had gone back into the shop again. And yet at that moment I knew not what was fitting to say, for my heart seemed in my mouth, and every inch of my body quivered with a strange joy.

"Miss Naomi," I stammered, hardly knowing the words that came from my mouth, "thank you for what you did months ago. I loved you then, I love you a thousand times more now."

I saw the blood mount to her brow, and for a moment I could not tell whether she was angry or no. She looked anxiously back into the shop, then up and down the street.

"You are in danger here," she said.

"I care not, now I see you," I cried. "I have done nothing wrong, except that I am doing wrong in loving you. I have not won back Pennington yet, but I will do it, God helping, I will, if—if you will give me just one word of promise."

I spoke in a low tone so that no one could hear, and indeed the crowd seemed too much bent on other things to notice me.

"It is no use," she said—"it is no use. Do not try any more, it is hopeless."

"I shall never give up hope," I said.

"Even now my guardian is seeking to do you harm," she cried. "This I know."

"I am not afraid of him," I cried. "You know what I told you—that night—last November. You did not scorn me then. I hoped then that some day you might care for me; it is my hope still."

"It is no use," she cried again, looking anxiously around her—"it is no use. I am to be married to Nick Tresidder; at least they all want me to marry him."

"No!" I cried. "No!"

"I cannot help myself," she said, piteously.

"Do you love him?" I asked.

"No," she said, again looking eagerly around.

"Then!" I cried, "you shall not marry him. I will keep you from that, even if I found you by his side at the church communion-rails."

Then my heart jumped for joy, for I saw a look of gladness flash into her eyes.

"Come with me," I continued; "come away where it is quiet. No one will notice us among all this crowd."

"No, no, I dare not; I am watched everywhere, and you are watched. We may be safe here for a few minutes longer, for when Emily is talking about finery she is forgetful of all else, but I must not leave here."

"Look here," I cried, "Betsey Fraddam told me last night that all sorts of lying stories have been told about me."

"I have believed none of them," she cried.

"Also that Nick Tresidder has told the parson to have your banns called at the parish church."

"But not with my consent," she said, eagerly, and again my heart thumped aloud because of my joy.

"Naomi Penryn," I cried, "I know I seem a worthless, thriftless sort of fellow, for as yet I have done nothing to get back Pennington, but if you could love me just a little"—and I looked toward her appealingly. "Anyhow, trust me," I continued, "and be not afraid. Remember I shall love you till I die, and I will be always near you to be your friend."

I said this in the heat of my love and youth, for nothing seemed impossible to me then. Somehow, I knew not how, a greater strength had seemed to come into my life, and I laughed at difficulty and danger.

"Go!" she cried—"go; Emily Tresidder is coming. Go!"

"Not yet, the woman is showing her something else," and I felt thankful because of this girl's love for finery. "Promise me," I continued, "that you will not yield to those Tresidders. Stand firm, and they will be afraid to force you. Remember, I will be always near, if I can, and that they dare not harm you. Besides—oh, if you knew all you are to me!"

She looked at me eagerly while a film seemed to come over her eyes, and I thought she was about to say something. Then a look of terror flashed across her face. "Go!" she cried—"go! There is my guardian! Oh, take care of yourself!" and then she rushed into the shop, leaving me standing by the door, and only partially hidden from the crowd by some things which had been placed by the door.

I quickly got among the crowd, but I know that both Nick Tresidder and his father saw me, and I knew, too, that if they went into Humphry Bolitho's shop they would find out that Naomi had spoken to me. And yet I felt very joyous. I knew, although Naomi had not told me she loved me, that she thought of me with more than passing kindness, while the flash of her eyes told me that she could not be moulded at will, even by such men as the Tresidders and such a woman as Richard Tresidder's mother. Naturally I felt afraid for her, and for all she would have to suffer, and yet the remembrance of the fact that she would speak to me kindly, and had told me to take care of myself, as though she were anxious for my welfare, filled me with a great hope, and hope giveth wings of strength to those who are weighted with great burdens.

I had not been in the crowd above a minute before I felt myself carried along the street, as if by the force of a mighty torrent. I was hemmed in on every side by a seething mass of men and women, some of whom were praying and singing, while others used many profane words, and uttered threats which would not be seemly for me to write down. I quickly learned that the people were making their way toward the house of a lady who, I was told, was called Mrs. Bennetto, although I am not sure that this was the correct name. I asked why they wanted to get there, and was told that Mr. John Wesley was there, and that many were determined to kill him. Most of the crowd, as I have said before, seemed exceedingly bitter toward him, but others were loud in their praises of the great man, and although they were severely buffeted they kept singing the hymns he had composed, some of which seemed very fine in their sentiment, although I must confess that the meaning of some of the verses I could not understand.

When we arrived at the house where he was there was a great amount of shouting, so great that had a storm been raging at sea close by I do not think we could have heard it.

"Laive us git to un, laive us git to un!" shouted the crowd, eagerly and angrily.

Now I have always loved fair play, and so I asked why they wanted to get to Mr. Wesley, and at that moment there being a lull, and my voice being deep and strong, my question was heard.

"He's a Canorum," they shouted; "he's a Papist, he drives men and women maazed, he keeps 'em from goin' to church, he destroys honest trade!" These among other things I heard as I struggled to get to the door.

There was no law or order in the place. Not a single constable seemed to be near, and for the moment the friends of the preacher seemed to be afraid to act in his defence.

Presently I got to the door of the house, and I think my great proportions frightened some of them.

"Look you," I said, "he is one and you are many. I do not know this man, but I have heard up and down the country that he hath done much good. If any man dares molest him, I will strike him down as I would strike down a yelping cur."

For a moment there was a quiet, and the friends of Mr. Wesley took heart, for although it seems like boasting to say so, I think the sight of one strong, courageous man, as I thank God I have ever been, always has a tendency to quell the anger of an unreasoning mob.

"He's not a friend to the people," they cried. "He's destroyed the trade of Jemmy Crowle, who do kip a kiddleywink over to Zennor. Ted'n no use kippin' a public 'ouse after he've bin to a plaace. He do turn people maazed. He do convert 'em, and then they waan't zing songs, nor git drunk, nor do a bit of smugglin', nor nothin'."

This was said not as I have written it down, but came to me in confused, excited ejaculations from many quarters.

"If that is all he has done," I said, "there is no reason for anger."

For a moment there was a silence among the crowd, and I heard voices from within the house.

Said a woman, "Oh, sir, what must we do?"

"We must pray," was the reply. This was in a man's voice, and was strangely sweet and strong, and even then it thrilled me greatly.

I believe that many, angry as they had been, would have turned away at that moment, but some drunken privateers were among the mob, and one of them came and pushed me savagely. I caught the man up and lifted him above my head and threw him from me. This angered the privateers greatly, and they smashed down the door while others swore great oaths at me.

"What will em do weth the Canorum?" I heard the people cry, and then there was a silence again. I think they were subdued, as I was subdued, by the sound of a man's voice.

"Here I am," I heard Mr. Wesley say, "which of you has anything to say to me? To whom have I done wrong? To you, to you?"

At this the people seemed eager beyond measure to catch sight of him, and they shouted, "Come out, come out. Lev us zee 'ee."

Others again shouted, "Ef we can git to un, we'll kill un. We doan't want no Canorums, we doan't want no new sort ov religion. We like our beer and wrastlin', we do."

"Look," I shouted, "give every man fair play. Let him speak for himself. If he has anything to tell us, let him tell it."

"Iss, iss," shouted the crowd; "lev un spaik."

With that I heard the same voice speaking which I had heard inside the house, only this time it was louder. It was not panic-stricken, it was perfectly calm and fearless. It was strangely sweet, too, and it reached, I should think, to the very outskirts of the crowd. A strange hush fell upon the people as they heard it. It was like a stormy sea which had suddenly become calm.

"Neighbours and countrymen," said the voice, "do you desire me to speak?"

"No, no," shouted some; "put un in stocks, throw un in the say."

Then I spoke again. "Fair play, Cornishmen," I said, "give the stranger fair play, let him speak."

"Iss, iss," cried the larger part of the crowd; "he sh'll 'ave fair play, he sh'll spaik."

With that a gangway was made, and then I turned and saw the man who had created such a great commotion in the country come bareheaded into the middle of the street, while the surging crowd hustled each other, some eager to do him injury, but many more anxious to hear what he had to say.

As for myself, I was silent, for the sight of him impressed me greatly.



CHAPTER XIV

I AM TAKEN PRISONER, AND AFTERWARD EXPERIENCE MANY STRANGE THINGS—I AT LENGTH FIND MYSELF IN A DUNGEON

There was nothing at first sight very striking about Mr. John Wesley's appearance. He was, I thought, rather undersized, and I at that moment failed to see what there was about him to cause so much commotion. And yet as I looked again I could not help being impressed with the calm strength which shone from his eyes. He seemed to possess a power unknown to most men. Had I, Jasper Pennington, been brought face to face with such a crowd, I should have challenged the strongest man there to come out and let us fight a fair battle, but Mr. Wesley seemed only desirous to do good. He spoke calmly and with much assurance about our being sinners, and being children of hell, but that we could be saved from everlasting perdition by believing in Christ, who had appeased God's anger toward us.

Now, I am not a critical man, but even at that moment I could not quite see his meaning, for it seemed as though God were divided against Himself, and that God the Son felt differently toward us from what God the Father felt, and this, to an unlearned man like myself, brought only confusion. Moreover, as he spoke, while I could not help admiring his courage, and vowing in my heart that all one man could do to defend him I would do, I felt that he was not altogether a lovable man. He spoke with a sort of superiority which I did not admire, while he seemed to think greatly of himself. I know it sounds like presumption for me, an obscure, ignorant man, to write this, especially when I think of the good he has done; nevertheless, such thoughts came into my mind as I watched him. Perhaps his consciousness of his power over the multitudes merely gave him a confidence which I did not understand, or perhaps the fact that he was one of the principal men of the age made him feel his importance, for I think a man must be more than human if, talked about as Mr. Wesley has been, he does not become possessed of great esteem for himself.

After he had been talking a few minutes, however, I forgot all this. His little form seemed to dilate with a strange life, and many evil men groaned, as if with anguish. His voice became more and more resonant, and presently a touch of tenderness, which was at first absent, mingled with his tones.

Before long that great crowd became subdued, and then I realised the power of the human voice, of true courage, and of a good life; for I believe that the mob realised, although they might not be able to put their thoughts into words, that this man was gifted with an influence which can only come by means known to those who live with God.

After he had been speaking some time a clergyman, accompanied by some of the principal people of the town, spoke to the people, and he so angered them that I believe injury would have been done had not the town officials been present. Even with their presence Mr. Wesley seemed in great danger, and so, in my anxiety to help him, for he had stirred my heart greatly during the latter part of his address, I came to his side.

"No man shall touch Master Wesley," said I.

He looked up at me, for I think I was about a foot taller than he, and he said, "Thank you, young man."

"Whither would you go?" I said. "I will walk by your side, and will let no man harm you."

"I thank you," he repeated. "God hath evidently gifted you with great strength. Use it for His glory. I will accept your escort to Mrs. Maddern's house, but I have a strength which is omnipotent on my side. I will trust and not be afraid."

Even as he spoke I felt how true were his words, and then we walked down the street toward the sea, he continuing to preach most of the time.

When we reached the door of Mrs. Maddern's he said, "What is your name, young man?"

"Jasper Pennington," I replied.

"It is an old Cornish name," he replied, and then, looking into my eyes, he said, "Is your heart at peace with God and man—especially with man?" This he asked meaningly.

I did not answer him, for it occurred to me that the town officials who walked with him had told him who I was, although I had not heard.

"Trust in the Lord and do good, Jasper Pennington," he said, quietly, "so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thyself also in the Lord, and He shall give thee the desires of thine heart."

Then he went into the house, and I felt as though a benediction rested upon me.

I waited outside with the crowd, expecting him to come out again, but after a time they heard that he had got into a boat from the back of the house, for the sea came up close to the back of the house, and by this means he was able to escape, mingling with the crowd again.

It was now well on to six o'clock in the evening, but being summertime the light was still bright; indeed, the sun was yet high in the heavens. So I left the people who wanted to have a last look at Mr. Wesley, and who found their way to the seashore in great numbers. I went slowly toward Humphry Bolitho's shop, musing upon what the great man had said to me, but thinking far more of my meeting with Naomi. It is true I was too excited to understand its real significance, but the impression left upon me was gladsome, and, although my prospects seemed dark, my heart beat high with hope. Perhaps the peaceful words that Mr. Wesley had spoken to me made me rejoice, but the fact that Naomi had spoken kindly to me was that upon which my mind rested most fondly.

When I got to Humphry Bolitho's shop I looked eagerly inside, as though I expected to see Naomi there, but only strangers were within the building, and then I came to the spot where, a year before, I had been publicly degraded, and where I had first seen my love. Then my mind and heart were full of bitterness, and yet perhaps the piteousness of my condition had caused her to think kindly of me. And so, even at the place of my degradation, I hoped that my enemies' deeds might work out for me an exceeding great reward. Neither did I feel so bitterly toward the Tresidder family. I still determined to win back my own and to fulfil my promise to my father, but I wished my enemies no harm. Even then I wondered whether John Wesley's words were not a prophecy, providing I would fulfil the conditions.

But this feeling did not last long. I began to picture the danger Naomi was in; I thought of Nick Tresidder trying to persuade her to marry him; I thought of the threats that might be used; I called to mind the power of the woman who had persuaded my grandfather to be unkind to his only son, and then I was afraid, for if Naomi married Nick, what joy should I have in life; ay, what would Pennington be to me? It would seem only an empty tomb, while my heart would be eaten out with vain longings even to the end of my days; for such is the mystery of life, and such is the value of a woman's life to the man who loves her. I had seen Naomi only a few times, while I had had but little intercourse with her, and yet she was more to me than aught else. But for her I think I should have given up hope, and when hope is gone all is gone.

I went back toward the sea again, musing over my hopes and my difficulties, when I saw Israel Barnicoat stumbling along the street, seemingly intoxicated. Not wishing to be seen by him, I went into an inn to escape him and to get some refreshments, for I remembered that I had eaten nothing since morning. The landlord of the inn, John Snell by name, had known me in my more prosperous days, and he asked me to come into the parlour, which he assured me was empty. So, desiring quiet, I accepted his invitation. I had been there perhaps an hour, and I was planning what I should do that night when John Snell came into the room and brought me a letter.

"A booy 'ave jist brought it, Maaster Jasper," he said.

"A letter for me!" I cried, in astonishment.

"Iss; ther's your naame top of it, edn't et?"

I read the inscription—"Jasper Pennington, Esquire."

Now the word "Esquire" set me wondering; moreover, it set my heart a-beating hard, for I thought I recognised the writing, and yet I was not sure.

I did not break the seal because, although John Snell seemed friendly toward me, I did not wish him to be present when I read the missive, for I hoped that Naomi was the writer.

Presently John left me alone, and then I anxiously read and re-read the words which had been written. They were very few, but they made my heart burn with great joy, for they told me that I might soon see my love again. This is what was written:

"If you would help me, meet me to-night at Pendennis Castle gates at the hour of ten. I would then tell you what was impossible for me to say at Humphry Bolitho's shop. If you love me, do not fail; I am in greater danger than you think. If you fail our only hope is gone."

Now, as I said, I read this letter many times, and pondered greatly over its contents. I made up my mind I would not fail, for the letter told me of Naomi's love and Naomi's danger. The thought of speaking to her without hindrance was joy beyond all words; so much joy did I feel, indeed, that I thought not of where Naomi was when she wrote it, or how she was to escape her guardian while she spoke to me. Enough that her own hands had penned these lines to me, while the joy coming from the thought that she sought my help made me incapable of thinking clearly. I was sure that her hands had traced these lines, for I compared them with the other letter I had received from her, and which I carried with me wherever I went; and so long before the hour of ten I made my way toward Pendennis Castle. The little town was nearly asleep. No sounds reached me save those of revellers in some kiddleywinks near the shore. As I walked along many doubts came to me. By what means would Naomi reach the castle gates? Who would accompany her? for I could not think she would come alone. What was the reason she was staying in Falmouth over night? And, above all, how would she elude the vigilance of those who guarded her?

Had I long to wait I have no doubt that many more questions would have arisen in my mind, for in spite of my joyful anticipations my mind began to clear, and I thought of many things which did not come to me as I read the letter. Besides, try as I might to throw off the feeling, a great dread laid hold of me, and I began to look anxiously around me, as if fearful of my surroundings.

Below me, in the near distance, the waves swished on the shore, while out at sea, perhaps a mile, I could see the lights of a ship twinkling. But for the musical sound of the waves all was silent; the night was clear and bright; the moon's beams played with the sea, making the waves shine like diamonds. Even although my mind was filled with many doubts, I felt that I had seldom seen a fairer night, and I dreamed of leading Naomi to the lanes outside the town and telling her again of my love.

Presently I came to the drawbridge near the castle gates. I knew it was nearly ten o'clock, but it might want a few minutes to the hour, so I went and leaned against the castle walls.

I thought I heard a whisper, for my ears were eager to catch the sound of my love's footsteps; so I went back to the gates again; then I heard a quick shuffling of feet, and before I could turn around my arms were pinioned, my eyes were bandaged, and some woollen substance was thrust into my mouth.

I saw now what the letter meant. It was not written by Naomi at all, and in my heart I cursed myself as a blockhead for being so easily duped. I heard the gruff voices of men, and among others I felt sure I heard that of Israel Barnicoat. For some few minutes, although my hands were pinioned, I struggled fiercely, but it was of no use; besides, I heard a threatening voice near me saying, "You be quiet, Jasper Pennington, or you'll be thrawed over the cliff. Doan't 'ee make no mistake now!"

I could not speak, neither could I see, so I became passive, and they led me along a road which I knew descended. The sound of the waves became nearer and nearer, so I judged we were going to the sea. In this I was correct. A few seconds later I heard the sound of paddles, and then I was half led, half lifted into a boat.

I tried to get the woollen material with which I had been gagged out of my mouth, for it made me sick; moreover, I found it hard to breathe, but I tried in vain. So I bore up as well as I could, wondering where I was to be taken and what was to become of me. I did not think they meant to kill me, or they would have thrown me over the cliff at Pendennis Point, so I came to the conclusion that Cap'n Jack Truscott's gang had got hold of me, and that they would take me to Kynance. I listened eagerly to hear the sound of his voice, but could not; but I felt sure I had heard Israel Barnicoat's, and this confirmed me in my opinion.

I was angry at this, not so much for myself as for Naomi. Never until then did I feel how much she was in Richard Tresidder's power; never did I feel so certain as then that every means would be used to marry her to his son. And I had vainly thought that I would stay near to help her, and that I would save her from the power of my enemies. Now, however, a few hours after I had come back to Cornwall, I was taken a prisoner.

I sat upright in the boat. On each side of me sat a man holding me, while two men rowed. There were others near me, as I knew by the sound of their voices; how many I did not know. After I had sat thus for perhaps half an hour the rowing ceased, and I felt our boat thump against some hard substance, and by the movement of the men I knew that some new steps were to be taken.

A few seconds later I heard sounds above me; then my hands were loosed, but the bandage was not taken away from my eyes.

"Stand upright," said a voice.

I stood upright.

"Lay 'old ov this."

A piece of rope was put in my hand.

"You've got 'old of a rope ladder. Now climb."

I felt with my hands, and discovered that the man had spoken truly. I knew it was useless to disobey, so I started to climb. In a few seconds I felt my arms grasped by hard hands, and I was dragged on to the deck of a vessel.

I made no sound; I could not, for I was still gagged.

"Come weth wee."

I knew by the dialect that Cornishmen still spoke, and a few seconds later I felt myself descending a stairway with two men holding me.

By the motion I judged that I was on a pretty large vessel, and this caused me to wonder greatly, for a large vessel would not be needed to take me to Kynance, neither would Cap'n Jack use one for such a purpose. I then thought I must be in the hands of the press-gang, and this was not altogether unpleasant, for I thought I might be able to escape, or use means whereby I should be able to communicate with Naomi.

A few seconds later I knew that I was enclosed in some sort of a cabin, and then I felt a great relief, for my gag was pulled from my mouth. I tried to speak, but I could not; my tongue seemed swollen and my throat was parched, but it was pleasant to me to be able to breathe freely.

At length I made a great effort.

"Why am I taken here?" I asked.

No one spoke.

"What have I done that I should be treated thus?" I asked. "I have harmed no man. I arrived in Falmouth only yesterday. What is your will with me?"

Still no one spoke.

"Pull the bandage from my eyes and let me see, I cried. I said this because two men still held my arms firmly, but no one moved to do my bidding.

"Then give me something to drink," I cried—"water; my throat is parched, and burns like fire."

"Yes, you shall drink," said a voice.

A few seconds later I heard the sound of bottles clinking, and then the gurgle of something being poured therefrom.

"Here is something to cool your mouth. Here it is—fine stuff. Drink it quickly, drink it all."

I felt a goblet placed against my lips, and a strange odour rise to my nostrils. I thought it smelt like rum, and a sickly feeling came over me.

"Drink quickly," said the same man who had spoken before; "it will do you good."

I feared to drink, and I shut my teeth firmly, but a great sickness came over me, and I could not keep my mouth closed, and some of the liquid was poured on my tongue. It was pleasant to the taste and delightfully cooling to my tongue, and so thirsty was I that I drank the contents of the goblet, thankful for such a refreshing beverage.

"You feel better now, don't you?"

"Yes," I said; "take away the bandage, and I shall be all right."

No sooner had I spoken than I staggered, and should have fallen had not I been kept up by the men who still held my arms.

"You are not so well, after all," I heard some one say. "You had better lie down."

I yielded to the pressure upon my body, and felt myself falling; a great roaring sound came into my ears, and then I realised that I was lying on some sort of couch.

My senses, I was sure, were departing from me, and I had a vague idea that I was falling through unlimited space, while wild winds and loud thunders were all around me; then all became a great blank.

How long I remained unconscious I do not know, neither can I tell whether the experiences through which I thought I went had any objective reality.

This was what I thought or dreamed happened to me. For a long time all was a perfect blank, except that I was left alone in darkness and allowed to rest in peace. Even now I have a vague remembrance of a delicious restfulness that came to me; every particle of my body seemed to be in repose, while all desire departed. By-and-by light seemed to come to me—a strange, weird light. I was moving, not by any action of my own, but unknown forces were carrying me through balmy air. Strange, shadowy creatures flitted around me, while I thought I heard the sound of distant music, as though ten thousand voices were singing.

This, I said, is death.

My eyes, I knew, were closed, and yet I could see. By an inward power of sight I could plainly discern the shadowy creatures around, and I remember interesting myself in trying to discern their faces. Presently one more than all the rest became plain. At first I thought it was Naomi's, so fair was it, but I soon discovered that I was mistaken. The woman was cast in a larger mould than Naomi, and looked more matronly.

She looked at me with infinite tenderness, and kept close to my side all the time.

"Speak," I said to her; "tell me who you are."

But she shook her head.

Then it seemed to me as though dark, evil forms came near, and a man with a face like Richard Tresidder's said, "Let him die; we shall never be safe while he is alive." But the woman seemed to surround me like a mantle of light, and lo! my enemies were powerless to touch me. Time after time did murderous weapons seem to come close to me, but the form of the woman received every blow, and yet they did not harm her.

"This woman bears a charmed life," was the thought that came into my mind, and I longed greatly to know who she was.

Then another form came near. I saw my father.

"Jasper," he said, "this is your mother. She is always near you. This is a mother's joy, ever to be near her loved ones. She will protect you."

"Mother," I cried, "kiss me."

Her face came closer and closer to mine, and then for the first time I knew of a mother's love and felt a mother's kiss.

"Be brave, and pure and true, Jasper, my son," she said; "fear not even in the valley of the shadow of death. Delight thyself in the Lord, and He shall give thee the desires of thine heart."

After that a great darkness fell upon me again, yet through the darkness I could see the luminous form of my mother, with love shining from her eyes, and her hand pointing upward.

After that I felt as though I were on a stormy sea. The ship in which we sailed tossed like a cork, while the waves, foam-crested, hurled themselves furiously on our bark. A great panic seized the ship's crew, and they gave themselves up for lost. But for myself I had no fear. A great benign influence was around me, and I felt as safe as a babe rocked on its mother's breast, while the wild winds that roared seemed as sweet as the lullaby of a mother to a tired child.

For a long time the darkness continued, and then, when all hope seemed to have departed from the ship's crew, I saw a twinkling light. Then I felt rough hands around my body, while evil eyes gleamed; but I still saw the love-light shining from my mother's eyes, and I heard a voice saying, "He must not suffer harm."

Then all was a perfect blank.

* * * * *

When I awoke to consciousness I found myself in a small room. It was dimly lighted, and the air seemed cold and clammy. As my eyes became accustomed to my surroundings I saw that the walls were rough and unplastered. Above my head were huge beams, covered with thick, unplaned boards. Only one window was in the room. It was very small, and through the glass I could see iron bars. The window, I judged, was eighteen inches wide, and perhaps two feet high.

I was lying on a bed which was made of rough deal, and had evidently been knocked together hurriedly. But the clothes were clean and dry. Beside me was a table on which was a basin and some cups.

"Where am I, and how did I get here?" I asked myself.

For some time I had no remembrance of the past. Then events came to me in a dim, vague way. I remembered the letter which I thought was written by Naomi, and my journey to Pendennis Castle. But it seemed a long way off. It might have been years; I could not tell.

I tried to lift myself from my bed, but I could not, I was too weak. I looked at my hands; they were white like a woman's, and very thin.

"I must have been ill," I said; "but why am I here, and where am I?"

I listened intently, but all was silent as death. I longed for human voices, but I could hear none. No sound reached me but the roar of distant surf, but it was a strangely muffled sound.

"I am by the sea somewhere," I muttered; "but where?"

Then my heart gave a bound, for I heard the echo of distant footsteps. They sounded strangely, just as one's footsteps sound at night when walking through an empty church. They came nearer and nearer, until they came close to where I lay. Then I was sure that some one was coming to me.



CHAPTER XV

MY EXPERIENCE IN MY PRISON—I AM TOLD TERRIBLE NEWS ABOUT NAOMI

I looked eagerly toward the direction from which I had heard the sound, and saw a door opening. A little old man entered. Evidently he was a serving-man, just as one sees in most old houses. Even then I concluded that he was one who had spent most of his life in some well-ordered house. His clothes were spotlessly clean, the buckles on his shoes shone, his stockings were without blemish. His wig, too, was powdered carefully, and all his linen was faultless.

All this made me wonder the more greatly as to where I was.

He met my questioning look calmly, and looked at me critically.

"Ah, you are better," he remarked, quietly.

"Would you tell me where I am?" I asked.

"You are safe from harm," he replied, vaguely.

"And why am I here?" I asked.

"To be kept from harm."

"And how long have I been here?"

"It is not for me to tell you. You have been very ill."

"What has been the matter with me?"

"You have had fever. Once I thought you would have died; but you have been nursed safely through it, and I have doctored you successfully."

"Are you a doctor, then?"

"I have some knowledge of the human system and of medicines. It is well, otherwise you would never have lived through your sickness."

His face showed no emotion whatever, neither did it in the slightest degree indicate his thoughts. He spoke in perfectly measured tones, and each word was enunciated clearly. Many thoughts flashed through my mind, and many questions rose to my lips, but the old man's presence seemed to check them. Moreover, I felt very weak.

"I shall be well and strong soon," I said.

He came to me, felt my pulse, examined me in various ways, and said, quietly, "Yes, I think you will soon be well. You are a very strong man."

"What will become of me then?"

"You will stay here."

"How long?"

"I do not know."

"But why was I brought here?"

"To be kept from harm."

"What harm?"

"It is not for me to say."

"By whose command was I brought here?"

"I shall not tell you."

"But you can tell me where I am. This seems a part of a big house, an old house. Whose is it, and where is it?"

"I shall not tell you. You will receive nothing but kindness while you behave seemingly, if not, means will be used to check you."

"I am a prisoner, then?"

"Yes, you are a prisoner, if you are pleased to call it so."

"But am I to have no liberty? Am I not to leave this room? I cannot live penned up here."

"I shall speak no further to you. Food will be brought, and no harm will happen to you."

With that he left the room as quietly as he came, and I heard his footsteps echoing again as I had heard them when he came to me. For a time my brain seemed to grow weak again, and in spite of my anxiety I dropped into a fitful sleep, from which I was aroused by the chinking of crockery near me.

My sleep made me feel stronger; I felt far better than when the old man had visited me. I looked around the room again, and saw a hard-featured woman. She, too, was elderly, fast beating on toward sixty. She placed a basin of gruel at my side.

"'Ere," she said, "ait this."

"Ah," I thought, "I am still in Cornwall. Anyhow, the woman speaks with a Cornish accent."

I thought I might fare better with her than with the old man, so I tried to gain some information from her.

"Let's see," I said, "what part of Cornwall are we in?"

"Ait yer mait, an' ax no questions," was her response.

I ate the gruel with a good appetite. It was carefully made, and seemed to be seasoned with some pleasant-tasting cordial. When I had finished the old woman grunted with satisfaction.

"It is very nice," I said—"very nice. Whoever made it knows her work. Did you make it?"

"Who es ther' that knaweth how to make sich stuff as that but me?" she said.

Her answer set me thinking, and I drew two conclusions. One was that the old woman was vulnerable to flattery, the other was that she did not hail from that part of the county in which I was reared. The word "knaweth" told me that she belonged to the northern part of the county.

I put another question in order to test the truth of both these conclusions.

"You look too much of a lady to be the cook," I said, "and yet I thought the cook would naturally make such things."

"Ther's no cook. Her's gone. I'm in charge."

She said this proudly, but although her answer was brief, it confirmed me in my suspicions. People in the western part of the county would say "She's gone," so when she said, "Her's gone," I was sure that she hailed from either Devon or from somewhere in the region of Tintagel and Boscastle.

"It must be a place of importance," I said. "Have you lived here long?"

"I was born in this parish."

"Let's see, this is near St. Minver, isn't it?"

"Ax me no questions and I'll tell 'ee no lies," was the reply.

But she had let me know more than she imagined. She had told me that she was born in the parish where my prison was situated, and I knew by her brogue that the parish was situated a good many miles north of St. Eve.

I asked her many more questions, but she would answer none that gave me any further information concerning my whereabouts. As to why I was there she seemed as ignorant as myself.

After this I lay many days on my bed—how many I do not know. The mornings dawned and the daylight departed by; I did not pay much heed. From the remarks of the little man, who constantly visited me, I judged that some complication had arisen in my case, and so my recovery was delayed. At length, however, I felt myself grow stronger again, and then daily health came to my blood and vitality to my being.

By and by I was able to rise from my bed, and a suit of clothes of antiquated cut was given me to wear.

"What month is this?" I asked one day of the old man when he came to see me.

"It would do you no good to know," he replied.

"Yes it would," I replied; "I should have got better before this if I had not been harassed by so many doubts and questionings."

"Well, then, it is October."

"October! What part of the month?"

"Yes, October. To-day is the fifteenth of the month."

"Then I have been here three months."

He was silent.

"What is the year?" I asked, eagerly.

The little man smiled. "Oh, you need not fear. This is the year 1745. You have been here three months. I see you wish to ask more questions, but I shall not answer them."

For several days after that I asked no questions, for a great despair laid hold of me. Although I had not been told, I was sure I knew why I had been kidnapped and made a prisoner. I believed, too, that my illness was not a natural one, and I could have sworn that I was kept out of the way because Richard Tresidder feared me. This thought was not altogether unpleasant. It could not be because of the Pennington estates—there was no immediate danger concerning that—it was because of Naomi. He had discovered that she and I had met, and I believed that he had concluded what I fondly hoped, although the foundation seemed poor, that Naomi loved me. If this were so, I could understand why he should want to keep me away from Pennington, for if Naomi loved me, and was willing to wed me, even although she could not marry until she was twenty-one, the position was a constant menace to Richard Tresidder; for if, when she came of age, she became my wife, Trevose Estate would at once be wrested from his hands, while I should be able to buy back Pennington.

I considered these matters many times as I lay there. They came to me not clearly, but in a vague way; not quickly, but slowly and at rare intervals, while my strength came gradually back to me.

All this time I knew not where I was, for I was not allowed to go outside the room in which I had been imprisoned. Neither had my strength been sufficient to climb to the little window I have mentioned in order to look out. I was kindly treated, my food was good, and brought regularly; my room was kept clean, and I was carefully attended to. But not one of my attendants would tell me anything. Moreover, as I became stronger they seemed to watch me more closely.

One morning after breakfast, I judged that the sky was bright by the light which streamed into my room, and as I felt very much better, and knowing that no one would come to my prison for an hour or two, I decided to try and climb to the window, so that I might see what my surroundings were. This proved to be a harder task than I anticipated, but after many vain endeavours I at length reached the little aperture and looked out.

My head became almost dizzy as I looked. Outside a great sea was running. I saw the breakers lash themselves into foam upon the rocks, and I saw a bold, ragged cliff stretching, as I judged, southward as far as my eyes could reach. Then I looked beneath me, and I saw that my prison had been built on the edge of the cliff. So high was I above the beach beneath that at first I could not measure the distance, but presently, as my eyes became accustomed to the sight, I was able to make my calculation. As far as I could judge I was at least two hundred feet above the roaring, rushing torrent beneath—probably the distance was greater. Escape by that means, then, was an impossibility.

I looked long and eagerly at the boiling surf and the weather-beaten cliffs which stretched far away in each direction. I watched the breakers as they hurled themselves on the rocks far, far down beneath me. The sight filled me with dull despair.

I tried to open the window, but it was fastened firmly. After repeated efforts, however, I managed to remove it about three inches from the frame, but I could not move it more owing to the iron bars that had been placed across. The fresh air blew in from the sea, which gave me great pleasure; it also cleared my mind somewhat, and acting on the impulse of the moment I tied my handkerchief to the iron bar. I did not see how it could do any good, but it could do no harm, and might possibly attract attention.

I looked again at the great waste of water, and marked the tumultuous tossing of the waves, and then I closed the window again, feeling that I could do nothing to effect my liberty.

I went back to my bed again and began to consider my condition. My mind for the moment seemed clear, and I was able to understand my position, and all the events I have related came back to my memory. Then I remembered that I always became dazed and drowsy after drinking the medicine which was given me. A torpor always crept over me, and I was incapable of definite action. This made me wonder still more.

I heard the sound of footsteps echoing along a passage, and a minute later the little old man I have mentioned came to me.

"It is time for you to have your medicine," he said.

Hitherto I had drunk it without demur; now I determined to avoid taking it.

"I will attend to it presently," I said, "but for the present I want us to talk together. I suppose you know you are placing yourself in great danger by keeping me here?"

He was silent.

"Of course," I went on, "I know that you are only the tool of others. My enemy's name begins with T, doesn't it?"

He gave a start, but did not speak.

"This cannot last much longer," I said; "I have friends who will be searching for me. Hanging's a serious matter. I shall take serious steps when I get away from here."

"When you do," he replied, significantly.

"Do you think I shall stay here always?" I retorted.

"How can you get away? This morning you climbed up and looked out of that window. You did not know I saw you, but I did. Well, what did you see? You know you are on the top of a cliff, and it is nearly three hundred feet to the beach. Well, you cannot escape that way; if you tried you would break your neck. Very well; the only other way to escape is to try and escape through that door. Well, what would happen then? You would not get up the passage a dozen steps before you would be shot."

"By whom?"

"By those who guard a dangerous madman."

"Oh, I see. I'm mad, am I?"

"Certainly."

"And is this an asylum?"

"It's not for you to know."

"Still it would go hard with Richard Tresidder if his perfidy should come out."

"It can never come out. Yes, I know what is in your mind. Well, supposing you get well enough to be set at liberty? You would be taken to Pendennis Castle as mysteriously as you have been taken here. But where are you? You cannot tell. Are you in England, Ireland, or Scotland? You do not know."

"How long shall I be kept here, then?"

"Not, I should think, more than a week. You seem to be very much improved in your health."

Now this set me wondering greatly, for I did not expect such a revelation. Still I managed to remain calm.

"You know why I am here, then?"

"Certainly. You have been a madman; as such you have been a constant menace to Miss Naomi Penryn. She has been much afraid of you, and has dreaded the thought of your being at liberty."

"Little man," I said, "you know this is a lie."

"I wish it were. I have nothing whatever against you; on the contrary, I rather like you."

He spoke this kindly, and I detected, as I thought, a friendly look in his face, so acting on the impulse of the moment I said to him, "Will you listen to what I have to tell you?"

"Yes," he said, "I will listen."

Then I told him briefly all I thought necessary to tell, and yet I felt that I had not the power to tell the truth well.

"Your history seems very plausible, young man," he said, "but I have been warned against you."

"But Miss Naomi Penryn knows that I am not a madman, neither have I annoyed her in any way."

"You lie. I myself received a letter from her before you were brought here."

"Let me see that letter."

"No. Enough that I have told the truth. She fears you; she pleaded that you might be guarded until such time as it should be safe for you to be at liberty."

"Are you sure the letter was written by her own hand? Do you know her handwriting?"

"Know her handwriting! Why?" Then he added, quietly, "Yes, I know her handwriting."

"But why do you think I shall be set at liberty in a week?"

"Because she will have a protector."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that to-day she is being married to Master Nicholas Tresidder."

"To-day?"

"Yes, to-day."

"Go away," I said—"go away, for the sake of God. I want to be alone to think."

He looked at me I thought pitifully and kindly; then he heaved a sigh and went away.

When he was gone I lay for hours like one stunned. Food was brought to me, but I took no notice. Had poison been left in the room I believe I should have taken it, so weary of life was I. They had worked their will, then, and Naomi had been forced into an unholy marriage with the man who I was sure she did not love.

I thought of trying to climb to the window, of breaking the glass, wrenching the iron bars from the wall, and falling headlong upon the rocks below, but I was too weak. I made a score of futile plans, each madder than the other.

Presently I became more calm. Might not this be all lies? Or, again, even if it were true, ought I not, instead of contemplating suicide, to be brave and watchful, so that I might be able to protect her? Would she not as Nick Tresidder's wife need a friend? Besides—and then a score of conflicting thoughts seethed in my brain.

Presently I began to try and understand the meaning of the old man's words about being set at liberty in a week. What did it mean? If she was to be married that day, why was I not set at liberty at once? Then I came to the conclusion that the man who was my gaoler would have to wait for orders. Richard Tresidder would wait until the marriage was consummated before he would communicate with him.

But I will not try and recount all my thoughts. Many of them were doubtless wild and foolish, neither would they interest those who may chance read this narrative.

For the next week, in spite of my despairing thoughts, I looked forward to my being set at liberty. I counted the days eagerly, and daily did I ask questions of the little old man who came to see me when my captivity should be ended. But he always shook his head, neither could I get from him any other answer.

When the week ended I expected something to happen. I should be probably blindfolded, pinioned, and conveyed to the walls of Pendennis Castle. But I was disappointed. A fortnight passed away, and still there was no change in my condition.

"What is the meaning of this?" I asked. "Why am I not liberated as you promised?"

But he gave no reply. Once I thought he would have spoken, for he seemed strangely moved, as though his mind were filled with doubts, but he left me without telling me the doubts which were in his mind.

Another week passed away, and in spite of myself I began to hope. If my captivity were to continue until Naomi was wedded to Nick Tresidder, did not my continued imprisonment show that the marriage had not taken place? I remembered Naomi's words. I thought of the look she gave me when she bade me good-bye. Yes, I felt sure she loved me, and that she had refused to wed my enemy! I still fretted and fumed at my imprisonment; I longed with a longing beyond words to be free, but this thought was like a beacon light to a shipwrecked sailor. It gave me strength, too. In spite of everything health surged back into my being.

But my release did not come.

The days began to grow very cold, and I asked for a fire, but none was given me, and my captivity was hard to bear. I think I should have gone mad but for a Bible that had been given me. I read again and again the Book of Job; especially did my mind rest upon his latter days when the sun shone upon him again.

One day the little man, who had told me to call him Jonathan, came into my cell weeping.

"What ails you, Jonathan?" I said.

"Alas!" was his reply.

"What?" I cried eagerly.

"My little Naomi is dead!" he said.

"Your little Naomi—dead!" I repeated, like one dazed. "What do you mean?"

He started as though he had told me too much.

But I was not to be trifled with. I caught him and held him fast.

"You have made me desperate," I said; "I must know all now. Who told you that she was dead? What do you mean by calling her your Naomi? I must know everything."

"I dare not!" he cried, distractedly—"I dare not, I am afraid."

"Afraid of whom?"

"Richard Tresidder. He will be master of—" He stopped, and then he wept bitterly.

My hands dropped from him, for my strength had gone.

"Tell me," I said—"tell me, Jonathan, all you know."

He kept sobbing, and this made me pity him, but no tears came to my own eyes. My heart became cold and seemed as hard as a stone.

"She did not wed Master Nicholas Tresidder," he said; "and—and, oh, God forgive me, but since then she has died."

For a time I could not collect my thoughts, the news seemed to have unhinged my mind, but presently I remembered. I thought of what I had heard Richard Tresidder say, and many wild thoughts came into my mind.

"If she is dead," I said at length, "you can set me free."

"No, no, I—" He got up from the stool on which he had been sitting and left the room. I heard him lock the door behind him, and I had no strength to hinder him. At that moment I cared for nothing.



CHAPTER XVI

I HEAR A STRANGE NOISE IN MY PRISON—THE SECRET PASSAGE WHICH I FOUND—A WILD STRUGGLE, AND A HAIRBREADTH ESCAPE

I have said many times that I am not a man of quick understanding, neither was I ever clever at explaining puzzles. At that time, however, my brain seemed more than ordinarily active, and I saw things with a clearness that I had never seen before. Besides, I was sure that in the past I had been rendered partially incapable by the drugs which had been given me. Anyhow, the sudden shock seemed to have given me greater clearness of vision, so that I was able to comprehend things far more clearly than in the past. Hitherto, with the exception of occasional flashes of light, all had been dull, now I seemed to see the truth plainly. That which had come to me as vague conjectures now appeared as certainties, and in spite of the old man's dread news, I had more hope than in the past. I felt sure there were many things as yet unexplained. With my greater mental activity came also more physical vigour. I felt myself capable of trying to escape. I wondered at myself, Jasper Pennington, being kept so long a prisoner without making any attempt at escaping, and I determined that very day to take some definite steps to obtain my liberty. I therefore ate my dinner eagerly when it was brought, for I felt that I should need all my strength, but within half an hour from the time the meal was ended a feeling of torpor again crept over me, and I fell asleep, neither did I wake for several hours. After I awoke some two or three hours passed before my vision was again clear. I saw then that if I were to take any definite action, I must refrain from the food provided for me, and this also placed me in a dilemma, for if I ate no food how could I retain my strength? What was done must be done quickly. Not only had my medicine contained a powerful narcotic, but my food also was drugged.

Consequently I did not partake of my night meal, but instead I feigned illness when it was brought, and afterward thought of many things which I hoped to do.

Presently, by the great silence which prevailed, I concluded that the inhabitants of my prison house had gone to rest, so I got up and tried the door. It was built strongly, but I believed it could be wrenched open if I had something in the shape of a crowbar. I thought of every article in the room, but could fasten on nothing suitable for the purpose, when I remembered the iron bars which had been placed outside the window. I climbed to the little opening in the wall, and opened the window as far as I was able. The cold air came rushing in, giving strength to my resolution. I seized one of the bars, but it did not move. Then I put forth my strength, which had been slowly coming back to me, and in a few minutes had torn it from the wall.

"It will act as a weapon as well as a crowbar," I mused; then I got back to the door and began to try and place the iron between the door and the hinges. I had no light, and so I had to find out the crevice with my fingers. While trying to do this I gave a start. I was sure I heard a noise under my feet. At first it sounded like footsteps, then I heard a scraping against the floor. I listened intently, and presently I was able to locate the sound. It was just under the bed on which I had been lying.

As quickly as I was able I removed the bed, and then listened again. For a time all was silent, then I heard a sound again, only this time it was different. Three knocks followed each other in quick succession, and I heard the boards vibrate under my feet.

"Is it a friend or enemy, I wonder?" I asked myself, and I grasped the iron bar more firmly.

I heard the boards creak as though something were pressed against them, but I could see nothing. Only a very faint light crept through the window which I had partially opened. Presently the boards began to give way. I knew this by a light which streamed into the room. Then I saw the floor move, and I heard a voice say, "Maaster Jasper."

I knew the voice immediately. There was only one person in the world who could speak in such a tone.

"Eli!" I cried, joyfully.

"Doan't 'ee holla, Maaster Jasper," said Eli, in his hoarse, croaking voice, "but come to once."

"Where?"

"Away from 'ere. Ther's some steps down to the say. Come on."

I needed no second bidding. I knew that Eli was thoroughly trustworthy, and so I lifted the boards, which proved to be a trap-door, and then, putting one foot through, I realised that I stood on a stone step.

"Come after me, Maaster Jasper," said Eli; "maake 'aste, they may come after us."

So I squeezed my body through the trap-doorway, and prepared to follow him.

"Cloase thickey trap, Maaster Jasper," said Eli, and I saw his strange eyes shining in the dim light.

In my eagerness to do this I made the thing drop heavily, and the noise echoed and re-echoed through the building.

"That'll waake 'em up," cried Eli. "Come on, come vast, Maaster Jasper!"

With an agility of which no man would have thought him capable, he hurried down the steps, mumbling fiercely to himself all the time. I soon found that this stairway was very crooked and often small. I imagined then, what I have since found to be true, that the house in which I had been imprisoned had been used as a place of storage for smuggled goods, while the way by which I was trying to escape was a secret way to it.

We had not descended many yards before I heard voices above, while I knew that feet were tramping on the floor of my late prison. Evidently the noise I had made in closing the trap-door had aroused my warders, and they would now do their utmost to capture me.

My senses were now fully alive, and I determined that it should go hard with those who tried to hinder my escape. To my dismay I discovered that I had left my iron bar behind, and that I had no weapons, save my two hands, which had naturally been weakened by my long imprisonment. However, there was no time for despair, so I followed close on Eli's heels, who wriggled his way down the crooked and often difficult descent.

We must have got down perhaps one hundred feet, when, turning a corner, a current of air came up, blowing out Eli's light and leaving us in darkness.

"Can 'ee zee, Maaster Jasper?" cried Eli.

"Just a little. Can you?"

"I cud allays zee in the dark," he grunted, but his statement was not altogether borne out, for his speed was much lessened. Still we managed to get on fairly well, for Eli could see in places which to most people would be impenetrable darkness, and I had been so much accustomed to the dark that I was not altogether helpless.

After all I suppose it is difficult to find perfect darkness. Light is only a relative term, and depends very much on the nature of our eyes. Thus it was that while we could not go nearly so fast as we had been going, we could still with difficulty find our way.

Presently we heard the sound of footsteps, and I knew by their rapid movement that our pursuers would gain upon us. Eagerly we hurried on, and each minute the sound of the footsteps behind us became plainer.

"How much farther, Eli?" I panted.

"A long way yet, and a hard job when we git to the end," he replied.

"How?"

"The mouth of this 'ere addit es fathoms above the say," he replied.

"How did you get here?" then I asked.

"I'll tell 'ee when we git away," he said, impatiently.

Then I chided myself for asking so much, for even these few words must have somewhat lessened our speed.

Meanwhile, the steps came nearer and nearer.

"Stop!" cried Eli, presently.

We stopped suddenly, while we both listened eagerly.

"There be three on 'em," he grunted.

"Yes, or more."

"No, only three—we caan't git away—"

"We must, we will!" I cried.

"Only by fightin' 'em."

"Well, then, we'll fight them," I cried.

"Come on then—there es a big place down 'ere. Furder down tes awful to git along, and we caan't go wi'out a light."

A few seconds later we stood in an open place. It was almost round, and might have been twenty feet across. I saw this by the light which Eli managed to fit as soon as we got there. It took him some few seconds to fit it, however, and by that time our pursuers were upon us.

I saw in a second that two of them looked like serving-men, the third was dressed as a gentleman. I could not see his face, however, but I thought he looked a strong man. To my joy none appeared to be armed. Eli stood by my side, but his head was no higher than my loins. Thus I and the dwarf had to battle with the three. I did not wait a second. I dared not, for my liberty, perhaps my life, were at stake. Besides, I believed, in spite of what I had heard, that Naomi was not dead. Had she been I should have been removed from my prison, if not set at liberty; at least, such was my belief.

Without hesitation, therefore, before a word could be spoken, I struck one of the serving-men a tremendous blow. He staggered against the side of the cave with a thud, and fell like a lump of lead. For a little while at all events we should be two to two, for Eli, insignificant as he seemed, was a formidable opponent, although at that time I did not believe him to be a match for a well-grown man.

Encouraged by the success of my blow, I made a leap on the man I took to be a gentleman. My blow was, however, warded off, and I received a stunning blow behind the ear.

Now during the time I had been imprisoned I had, as I have stated, been kept in a half-dazed condition, and although my strength had been slowly coming back to me, I was weak compared with the time when I had been taken a prisoner at Pendennis Castle. My food had been drugged, and my enforced inactivity had made my sinews soft like a woman's. Besides, I felt I had met with a skilled fighter, and I knew by the blow he gave me that he was a strong man. Moreover, I doubted Eli's ability to engage with the other serving-man, and this made me doubtful about the result of our struggle.

All this passed through my mind in a second, but I did not yield, for while the want of hope takes away strength, despair makes men desperate, and I was desperate. Somehow, although I could not tell why, I felt I was fighting for Naomi as well as myself. So, reckless of consequences, I made a second leap on my opponent and caught him by the collar, and then some wrappings which had partially obscured his face fell off, and I saw Nick Tresidder.

He writhed and struggled in my hands, but I held him fast.

"Ah, Nick Tresidder," I cried, "we meet face to face, then. Well, I've got an adder by the throat, and I mean to hold him there."

"Yes," he said, "we meet face to face." Then with a sudden twist he made himself free.

For a second I looked hastily around the cave. A torch was lying on the floor which lit up our strange meeting-place, and near it I saw Eli struggling with the serving-man.

He looked at me scornfully, while I, panting and partially exhausted, tried to harden my sinews for a second attack. I determined to be careful, however. I knew Nick Tresidder of old; I knew he would fight with all the cunning of a serpent, and that he had as many tricks as a monkey, so that, while he would be no match for me had my strength been normal, he would now possibly be my master in my comparative weakness.

He took no notice of Eli, who struggled with the serving-man, but kept his eyes on me.

"You fool, Jasper Pennington," he said. "I had come here to set you free; now you will never leave this place alive."

"Why?" I panted, for want of better words.

"Because you know now who imprisoned you, and if you escaped you would tell it to the world. I dare not let the world know this, so you and Eli will have to die."

I felt sure there was some trick in this, although I could not tell what it was.

"But if I had been set free the world would have known," I replied.

"No, you would have been taken to a far-off spot, and you would never have known where your prison was, nor could you have sworn who imprisoned you."

"But I am going to escape," I said, still keeping my eyes on him, while I could hear Eli grunting as he struggled with the serving-man.

"No," he said, "you are as weak as a baby. Your strength even now has gone. You thought bodily strength everything; I, on the other hand, know that brains is more than bodily strength. Do you think I did not know who I was dealing with? You are a fool. Every mouthful of food you have been eating while you have been here has kept you weak. Now you are no match for me. And I am going to kill you! Shall I tell you where you are? You are at Trevose, the house that was Naomi's. Shall I tell you something else?" and he laughed mockingly. "Naomi Penryn loved you—but she's dead; and now Trevose House and lands belong to the Tresidders, do you see?"

Then, I know not how, but a great strength came to me, an unnatural strength. My heart grew cold, but my hands and arms felt like steel. His bitter, mocking words seemed to dry up all the milk of human kindness in my nature. At that moment I ceased to be a man. I was simply an instrument of vengeance. His words gave me a great joy on the one hand, for I knew he would not have told me she loved me, did he not believe it to be true, but this only intensified my feeling of utter despair caused by those terrible words, "But she's dead." I felt sure, too, that she had been persecuted; I knew instinctively of all that she had had to contend with, how they brought argument after argument to persuade her to marry Nick, and how, because she had refused, they had slowly but surely killed her.

And Nick gloated over the fact that Trevose lands belonged to him as though that were the result of good luck rather than as the outcome of systematic cruelty and murder.

I was very calm I remember, but it was an unnatural calm. I looked around me, and Eli was still struggling with the serving-man, and to my delight he was slowly mastering him.

"Nick Tresidder," I said, "you and your brood robbed my father, you have robbed me, robbed me of everything I hold dear. I am going to kill you now with these hands."

He laughed scornfully, as though I had spoken vain words; but he knew not that there is a passion which overcomes physical weakness.

"I know it is to be a duel to the death," he laughed, "for I could not afford to allow you to leave here alive."

"God Almighty is tired of you," I said; "He has given me the power to crush the life out of you," and all the time I spoke I felt as though my sinews were like steel bands.

He leapt upon me as quickly as a flash of light, but it did not matter. In a minute I caught him in what the wrestlers call the cross-hitch. I put forth my strength, and his right arm cracked like a rotten stick, but he did not cry out. Then I put my arm around him and slowly crushed the breath out of his body. I think he felt the meaning of my words then.

"Stop, Jasper," he gasped, "she's not dead—she's—"

"What?" I asked.

But he did not speak. I do not think he could. I relaxed my hold, but he lay limp in my arms like a sick child. Never in my life could I hurt an unresisting man, so I let him fall, and he lay like a log of wood. But he was still breathing, and I knew that he would live. But my passion had died away, and so had my strength.

I turned around and I saw that Eli had mastered the serving-man. He had placed his hands around his neck, and had I not pulled the dwarf away the man would have died.

"Eli," I said, picking up the torch, "they will not follow us now. Come."

But Eli did not want to come. He looked at the men we had mastered, and his eyes glared with an unearthly light, and like a lion who has tasted blood he did not seem satisfied.

"An eye for an eye," he said; "tha's what mawther do zay. Iss, an' a tooth for a tooth."

"Lead the way to the sea, Eli," I said, and like a dog he obeyed. Taking the torch from me he crawled down the passage, laughing in a strange guttural way as he went. All the time my mind was resting on Nick Tresidder's words, "She's not dead. She's—" and in spite of myself hope came into my heart again, while a thousand wild thoughts flashed through my mind.

A few minutes later we felt the sea-spray dashing against our faces, while the winds beat furiously upon us. Below us, perhaps twenty feet down, the sea thundered on the rocky cliff.

"What are we to do now, Eli?" I asked.

He looked anxiously around him like one in doubt; then he put his fingers in his mouth, and gave a long piercing whistle.

"Who are you whistling to?"

"He's coming," he answered, looking out over the wild waters.

"Who's coming?"

"The man that told me."

"Who is he?"

"I'll tell 'ee, Maaster Jasper. I've bin 'ere fer days, I have. I was loppin 'round 'cawse I knawed you was 'ere."

"How did you know?"

"I'll tell 'ee as zoon as we git away, Maaster Jasper. Well, as I was loppin' round I zeed a man, he looked oal maazed. He spoked to me, and I spoked to 'ee. Then we got a talkin' 'bout lots o' things. He seemed afraid to meet anybody, but axed scores ov questions. Oal he tould me about hisself was that he was an ould smuggler that used to land cargoes round 'ere. One day I seed a hankerchuff 'angin' from thickey winder, an' I knawed 'twas yours. I was wonderin' 'ow I cud git to 'ee, and I axed the man ef he knawed anything 'bout the 'ouse. After a bit he tould me that there was a sacret passage a-goin' from the cliff to the room where the winder was. Tha's 'ow 'twas. I'll tell 'ee more zoon. There he es, look."

I saw something dark moving on the water, and presently discerned a man in a boat.

Eli whistled again, and the whistle was answered.

"How did you get from the sea up here?" I asked.

"I climbed up, Maaster Jasper, but I can't go down that way."

The boat came nearer.

"Es et saafe to plunge?" shouted Eli.

"Yes," was the reply underneath.

"No rocks?"

"Dive as far out to sea as you can, and you'll go into twenty feet of water."

"All right," shouted Eli, then turning to me, he said, "I'll dive first, Maaster Jasper."

"Can you swim?" I asked.

"Swem!" he sneered; "ed'n my mawther a witch?"

He plunged into the sea, and I heard the splash of his body as it fell into the water, then I saw him get into the boat, which was rocked to and fro with the great waves.

"All right," I heard a voice from beneath say, "now then!"

I gathered myself together for the dive, and I think my heart failed me. My strength seemed to have entirely left me, and it looked an awful distance between me and the frothy waves beneath. Besides, might I not strike against a rock? Then I think my senses left me, although I am not sure. It seemed as though the sea became calm, and a great silence fell upon everything. After that I heard a voice which seemed like Naomi's.

"Help, Jasper!" it said.

Then all fear, all hesitation left me, and I plunged into the sea beneath. I felt my body cutting the air, then an icy feeling gripped me as I sunk in the waters. When I rose to the surface I saw the boat a few yards from me rising on the crest of a wave.

I could hear nothing, however, save a roar which seemed like ten thousand thunders. I struck out boldly for the boat, but Eli and the other man seemed to mock me with jeering menaces. I struggled hard and long, but the boat seemed to get no nearer, and presently I thought I heard unearthly laughter above the wild roar of the breakers.

"Ha, ha," I thought I heard them saying, "now we've got you; this is Granfer Fraddam's phantom boat, this is. Swim, Jasper Pennington, swim!"

I tried to swim, but my legs seemed to be weighted, while around me floated thousands of hideous jabbering things which I thought tried to lure me on to the rocks.

I looked landward and the house in which I had been imprisoned appeared to shine in a strange ruddy light, until it looked like one of those enchanted houses which one sees in dreams.

Then I thought I heard Naomi's voice again, "Help, Jasper, help!"

But all my struggles seemed of no avail. I fancied I was being carried by the force of the waves farther and farther out to sea, while all the time Eli and the other man beckoned me onward, their boat rising and falling on the bosom of the ever-heaving waters.

Then I felt cold hands grip me, and I was dragged I knew not whither, while everything was engulfed in impenetrable darkness.



CHAPTER XVII

TELLS OF THE MANNER OF MY ESCAPE, OF THE STRANGE MAN I MET, AND OF ELI'S STORY OF A BURIED TREASURE

The next thing I can remember was a sensation of choking, of trying in vain to get my breath; then a weight seemed to be slowly rolled from me, and I felt myself free.

I opened my eyes and found myself in a cave. At first I thought it was the one in which I had fought with Nick Tresidder, but I soon found myself to be mistaken. I lay upon coarse, dry sand, while close to me a fire burned. Its grateful light and warmth caused a pleasant sensation; then I realised that my wet clothes had been taken from me, and that I was rolled in a warm, dry blanket.

"You be better now, Maaster Jasper, be'ant 'ee, then?" I looked up and saw Eli Fraddam bending over me.

"How did I get here?" I asked, in a dazed kind of way, "and where am I?"

"You be cloase to Bedruthan Steps, an tha's where you be, Maaster Jasper; you be in one of the caaves. 'Tes oal lew and coasy 'ere, and you'll be oal right again. But you've bin as sick as a shag, and as cowld as a coddle."

I tried to call to memory what had passed. Then I said, "But how did I get here, Eli, and how long is it since we came?"

"We brought 'ee 'ere, Maaster Jasper, in the booat, ya knaw. You tumbled in the say, and we was a goodish bit afore we cud git 'ee on boaard. We was feard for a long time that you was dead, but you're oal right now. Yer things 'll zoon be dry, and then you c'n dress up oal spruce and purty."

Slowly my mind became clear; then I remembered the man who had been in the boat while Eli and I had been together in the secret passage.

"Where is the man who helped you with the boat?" I asked.

"Here 'ee es. Come 'ere, maaster."

Then I saw a strange-looking man who, as far as I could judge, might be any age between fifty and seventy. I looked at him steadily for some time. Somehow his face seemed familiar. I could not call to mind where I had seen it, however. He had a long gray beard, while his hair was also long and unkempt. His eyes shone with a wild brilliancy, and he seemed to be always eagerly watching.

"Thank you for helping me," I said; "it was very good of you."

"Was it?" he replied. "Do you really think it was good of me?"

"It was, indeed," I responded. "I wish I could repay you somehow. Some time I hope to have the power."

He looked at me eagerly.

"I'm glad you think it was good of me," he said; "so very glad. Will you tell me something?"

"If I can I will," I replied.

"Do you think it possible that many good deeds—many, many, many—can atone for wild, bad, murderous actions?"

"God takes everything into account," I replied.

"Do you think He does—do you? I'll tell you something," and he drew closer to me. "Years ago—long years ago—oh! so long, so long!—well, say I was a smuggler, a wrecker—oh, what you like! Well, say in self-defence, in passion, in frenzy, I killed a King's officer—do you think God will forgive me? And say, too, that since then I've roamed and roamed, all over the world, always trying to do good deeds, kind deeds—do you think God takes them into account?"

"I'm sure He does," I answered.

"I only wanted to know your opinion," he replied, as though trying to speak carelessly. "Of course I only imagined a case, only imagined it—that's all."

Now this kind of talk set me wondering about the man, and imagining who he might be. Wildly as he looked, strangely as he spoke, curiously as he was dressed, he still spoke like an educated man. I watched him as he continued to cast glances around the cave, and I came to the conclusion that he was mad. I opened my mouth to ask him questions, but the remembrance that Eli might be able to tell me what I wanted to know about the Tresidders restrained me.

"How did you know how to find me?" I asked of Eli. "Tell me everything that happened since I left you that morning."

Eli, who had continued to look at me all the time I had been speaking to the stranger, gave a start as I asked the question.

"Wondered why you did'n come back from Fammuth," he grunted, "so I went and axed 'bout 'ee. Cudden vind out nothin'. Then I beginned to worm around. I vound out that Neck Trezidder 'ad tould the passon not to cry the banns at church. Then I got the new cook at Pennington to come to mawther and 'ave 'er fortin tould; then mawther an' me wormed out oal she knawed 'bout the things up to Pennington."

"What?" I asked, while all the time the strange man seemed to be eagerly devouring Eli's words.

"The Trezidders and the purty maid ev quaruled about you."

"Are you sure?"

"Iss. Neck wanted the purty maid to marry un, and she wudden, and they axed 'er 'bout you, and she wudden tell nothin'."

"How did the new cook know this?"

"She 'arkened at the door."

I did not feel then, neither do I feel now, that I did wrong in trying to find out the actions of the Tresidders even by such means as this. My heart was torn by a great anxiety, and my love for Naomi seemed to grow every hour.

"Well, what then?"

"The cook cudden maake it oal out, but the purty maid axed to go to some plaace called a convent."

"Ah! a convent—yes," I cried, my mind reverting back to the conversation I had heard between Richard Tresidder and his son.

"Well, she went; tha's oal I do knaw 'bout she."

"You are sure?" I asked, eagerly.

Eli hung his head.

"Tell me is that all?" I gasped. "Tell me all you know—everything."

"Poor Jasper, deear Jasper!" crooned Eli, patting my hands. "Eli loves Jasper."