"Because, because!——" then I stopped, I could not formulate the thought in my mind. "Did she go willingly?" I asked.
"Nay," cried the old man bitterly, "I—I think they gagged her; they bound her to her horse. She cried out sorely while she could, she struggled—and I—I could do nothing."
My blood ran through my veins like streams of fire; there were many questions I wanted to ask, but there was no time. I seemed to see her struggling with the Killigrews. I pictured her look of loathing as she talked with them.
"Trevanion or no Trevanion," I cried, as I hurried up the valley, "I'll strike another blow for the maid's liberty. I know she doth not trust me; but I'll free her from Otho Killigrew. Some one must have seen her—I'll follow them. They cannot well get beyond Padstow to-night!"
A little later I had taken the road which the landlord of the inn at St. Mawgan had told me led to Padstow. I rode hard till I came to a roadside inn. It was the first house I had noticed since I had left Mawgan. A light was shining from one of the windows, and I decided to stop.
"If they have passed here some one will have seen them," I mused, "and I must not go farther without inquiry."
I accordingly dismounted, and called for the landlord. An elderly man appeared, and in the light of the moon, which had just risen, I saw that his shoulders were bent, and that he craned his neck forward while he scanned my face.
"What'll 'ee plaise to 'ave, sur?" he asked in a wheedling tone of voice.
"A bottle of wine," I replied.
"Iss, to be sure, I'll tell 'em, sur. Your hoss do look flighty, sur. You wa'ant caare to laive un."