"And what did he look like?"
"Jist like a wrinkled-up ould man, sur."
"And which is the way to this chapel?"
"'Tis down there, sur," replied the old man, pointing southward; "but doan't 'ee go nist the plaace, sur, doan't 'ee. 'Tis gittin' dark, an 'ee'l zoon be out now."
Unwittingly the old labourer had confirmed the words of Mr. Trewint at Penhale. Evidently a hermit did live at the ruined chapel. Probably he was one of the few remaining anchorites which were yet to be found in the county. One of those who, tired of the world, had sought solitude, even as the last heir of the Tregarricks had sought it, when he built St. Michael's Chapel on Roche Rock.
Unmindful, therefore, of the old man's warnings, I found my way down the valley. The wooded hills sloped up each side of me, which so obscured the evening light that I had difficulty in finding my way. The place seemed terribly lonely, I remember; no sound broke the stillness save the rippling of a little stream of water which ran towards the sea, and the occasional soughing of the wind among the trees.
Once, as I stood still and listened, it seemed to me that the very silence made a noise, and a feeling of terror came over me, for the old labourer's stories became real. My mission, too, seemed to be more foolish at each step I took, and in the stillness I seemed to hear voices bidding me return. Nature had given me strong nerves, however, and presently the spirit of adventure got hold of me again, and then I pushed on merrily. I had gone perhaps a mile from St. Mawgan when I saw, in spite of the gathering darkness, a distinct footpath leading southward. This I followed, although the valley became darker and darker. By and by, however, it ended in a little green amphitheatre. This I judged to be about ten yards across, and the only outlet was the pathway by which I had just come. The little open space, however, was a relief to me, because the evening light was not altogether shut out, and I looked eagerly around me in the hope that I had arrived at the spot for which I had been searching.
Twice did I wander around the green spot, but the trees which grew around were so thick that I could discover nothing beyond them.
"It must be all an idle tale," I mused bitterly, "and I've been a dupe to silly stories. Why should I trouble more? I'll go back to the inn at St. Mawgan, get Chestnut saddled, and start for London to-morrow"; but even as the thought passed through my mind, I saw a dark bent form creep along the grass, and then was hidden from me by the thick undergrowth.