The stranger remained to give his animal rest, and was of course assailed with a host of questions. But all he could say was that an attorney at Bodmin had sent him with a letter to Mr. Griffith of Trevethlan Castle, and especially desired him to lose no time on the road. In about an hour he remounted, and rode away in a more leisurely manner than he had arrived.
In order to explain the occurrence which caused so much commotion in the hamlet, we must revert to the proceedings of Michael Sinson. Smarting under the discomfiture of all his long-cherished desires, driven ignominiously from the house of his patroness, and attributing his fall to the man against whom he had borne hatred even from childhood, Michael left London, with the intention of trying to implicate Randolph in the burning of Pendarrel. He imagined that he had a perfect hold upon his mistress in spite of her proud indifference, and turned his immediate attention to the overthrow of his successful rival. Restless and cunning, he was never happy now except when engaged in some intrigue, and his recent triumph at Bodmin had given him new zest for the work.
With such ideas he obtained admission to the prisoners charged with the incendiarism, and sought, as craftily as he could, to extract some information reflecting upon the disinherited owner of Trevethlan Castle. But he sought in vain: there were no tidings of the kind to give. Then Sinson went to his old grandmother, and bore her peevish humours for a short time, still seeking intelligence to further his designs. He met his too faithful Mercy, and endeavoured to find such in her knowledge of what passed within the castle walls. But again he was baffled. He had to deal with natures very different from his own.
Finally, he once more repaired to the congenial atmosphere of the gaol, and tried to gain the confidence of the ringleader of the mob, Gabriel Denis. Here he met his match. The old smuggler was as wary as himself. He bent an attentive ear to Michael's suggestions, how it was supposed the fire was the result of a long-devised plot, how a considerable reward would be paid, and a free pardon granted to any one who would furnish a true history of the affair. And Sinson insinuated dark hints concerning the late owner of Trevethlan, how he had a quarrel of many years' standing with the family of Pendarrel, how some people thought he was in the secret of the incendiaries, and how, if it were so, his impeachment would be the means of liberating a number of the inferior criminals. In short, Gabriel drew him on, until by degrees he had disclosed all his plan, and the smuggler was fully aware, that, true or false, a certain story would bring a certain price.
Now in prison, Denis had become rather intimate with Edward Owen. They both kept somewhat apart from their accused confederates. And Gabriel was full of wild adventure, in different quarters of the globe, which served to while away the dreary hours of confinement. So, among other things, the smuggler told Owen of the suggestions which were made to him by Sinson. The young peasant started.
"That's the villain that betrayed my master in the trial the other day," he said. "Have nought to say to him, Gabriel. He'd sell his best friend. I ought to know him well. He's driven the squire from the castle, and now he would bring him to shame. No, no; the squire knew nought about the fire, that I can warrant."
"Trust me, Edward," Denis answered; "I am too deep for him by a fathom and a half. But what's this ye say about the squire? Driven from the castle?"
"Did ye not hear then," said Owen. "This Michael brought a fellow to swear away the marriage of the last squire, and so they are going to turn the son out of the castle. It passes to them whose house was burned. And Michael is in their pay. Sorrow on the day when a Trevethlan took a bride from under the thatch."
"I ought to mind that day well," the smuggler said, musing.
"You!" Owen exclaimed.