Such a weighty thing as the unfinished vessel, and the wagon or wagons on which it must have been removed, could not, he argued, but have left its mark on the roads it traversed.
And so it proved. Following the deep wheelmarks which were easily discernible even now in the mire of the Hurst road, he arrived at that village, went through it, still tracing the wheelmarks; and finally, to his consternation, tracked the wagons to the stables of Hurst Court.
It was a disconcerting discovery enough, but Tregenna, furious at the conspiracy thus formed against the representatives of law and order, did not scruple to follow it up. It was evident that the hiding-place they had found for their vessel had been looked upon by the smugglers as safe and sacred, for no steps had been taken to guard it. Tregenna opened the wide door of the coach-house; and inside, as he had expected, he saw the hull of the unfinished boat.
Without a moment’s loss of time he went straight up to the house, where he fancied that the butler who admitted him looked at him askance, as if with some suspicion of his errand.
The squire himself, however, while affecting the greatest astonishment and indignation on hearing that the smugglers’ boat had been placed in his stables, was evidently in a state of extreme trepidation as to the course Tregenna meant to pursue with regard to himself.
The lieutenant, however, thought it better to receive his assurances of innocence as if he believed them, thinking that this would be a lesson strong enough to cure the squire of complicity with the smugglers.
Squire Waldron was, of course, particularly civil to his unwelcome guest, pressing him to stay to dinner; an invitation which Tregenna accepted at once, in the hope of meeting Joan.
Then the squire made haste to rid himself of his guest by presenting him to the ladies in the music-room, who again, as on a previous occasion, loaded him with hypocritical expressions of horror at the smugglers and their conduct. Certain rumors of the adventures of the previous evening had reached their ears from the Parsonage, and they all endeavored to worm out of Tregenna the exact details of his visit to Rede Hall, and of Joan’s late ride.
“They do say, you must know, dear Mr. Tregenna,” lisped one young lady, with a prim little ghost of a malicious smile, “that Joan Langney was so afraid you were gone to make love to Ann Price, who is reckoned a great beauty in these parts (though I am sure I ha’n’t a notion why), that she cantered after you on horseback!”
“The forward thing!” cried Miss Lucy.