At this moment Mr. Polwhele reached the inn. A hundred voices shouted that the Frenchman had got away; then catching sight of the lugger, with a sudden inspiration he galloped across to the jetty, calling on the dragoons to follow him.
"Hi, Tonkin!" he shouted, "I want to have a look at your cargo, my man."
But Tonkin, as if he had not heard the riding-officer's voice, suddenly put up the helm and stood away towards the reef. It was ebb tide: the rugged line of rocks was exposed; and as the lugger came within a few feet of it, a number of men could be seen jumping from rock to rock, sometimes wading in the pools between them, in the direction of the vessel. They were too far away for their features or their gait to be distinguished, but any one counting them would have found that they were not four, but five. Tonkin sprang into the boat, rowed to the reef and took the men off, then returned to the lugger. All the men clambered on board, the boat was made fast, and the vessel sailed across the bay, but in a few minutes suddenly brought up again. Once more Tonkin entered the small boat, this time accompanied by another man. He landed him on the reef, rowed back to the lugger, and while this threaded the fairway between the fallen rock and the cliff, the man returned to the shore and disappeared.
Mr. Polwhele bit his lips with chagrin, observing a snigger on the faces of the crowd. Then he rode back to the inn, dismounted, and entered, to learn the details of the recent events from the Squire, and to give in his turn particulars of his futile errand at the creek.
A few minutes later Sir Bevil Portharvan rode down at the head of a troop of yeomanry. He, too, entered the inn, and Doubledick enjoyed a brief moment of importance when, at Mr. Carlyon's request, he explained the relations between Delarousse and John Trevanion. Sir Bevil's ruddy cheeks turned pale with rage and mortification.
"Thank God!" he murmured.
"'Tis indeed a mercy," said the Vicar. "I sympathise with you with all my heart, Sir Bevil."
"The scoundrel!" cried the baronet. "Trevanion, I beg your pardon. I have listened to that villain, and had hard thoughts of you. Good heavens! he was to have married my daughter."
"Poor girl!" said the Squire. "I knew my cousin, Sir Bevil. I should have warned you, only——"
"Only I was a fool, Trevanion. Your warning would have fallen on deaf ears; my mind was poisoned against you. Forgive me."