At last the day arrived when the carpenters were to quit the house. Two servant maids,--or, as others have it, a servant man and a maid,--were sent at an early hour to assist in cleaning and putting things to rights for the reception of the family, but at eight o’clock in the morning a fire broke out in the house, and its progress was so rapid that the poor servants had not time to save themselves, but perished in the flames. Before noon the house was one heap of smoking ruins, but it could never be discovered how the fire had originated. Hocart’s misfortunes, however, were not at an end. Some part of the rock had been cut into paving stones for the English market, and the refuse broken up into small fragments for making and repairing roads. In the course of the year the one and the other were embarked for England on board of two vessels in which Hocart had an interest as shareholder, but, strange to say, both vessels perished at sea. Hocart himself went to reside in Alderney, but was scarcely settled there when a fire broke out and destroyed his new dwelling. [Illustration: Smith Street, A.D. 1870.] He then determined on returning to Guernsey, but when close to land a portion of the rigging of the vessel on board which he sailed, fell on his head, fractured his skull, and he died immediately.[53] There is another instance given of the ill luck which waits on those who interfere with the Cromlech and disturb the repose of the mighty dead[54] in the “Legend of La Haye du Puits,” which is drawn from an ancient chronicle and published in versified form by “M. A. C.,” with extracts from Mrs. White’s notes. The legend runs thus:-- In the reign of Henry II. of England Geoffrey of Anjou raised a rebellion against him in Normandy. Not wishing to be a rebel, Sir Richard of La Haye du Puits, a noble Norman knight, fled from thence to Guernsey, and landed in Saints’ Bay. He settled in Guernsey and proceeded to build himself a house, which he named after his Norman mansion “La Haye du Puits.” Unfortunately for himself, in so doing he destroyed an old Cromlech. All the inhabitants told him that he would in consequence become cursed, and a settled gloom descended upon him. Nothing could cheer him; he felt he was a doomed man. At last he thought that perhaps by resigning the house and dedicating it to God he might avert his fate. So he gave it to the Church, and turned it into a nunnery, making it a condition that the abbess and nuns should daily pray that the curse might be removed from him. He then set sail from Rocquaine Bay, for France, the rebellion being over, and his wife, Matilda, awaiting him in their old home. But on his way his ship was captured by Moorish pirates, and he was taken as prisoner to Barbary. When there, his handsome presence made so much impression on the governor’s wife that she entreated he might be allowed to guard the tower where she resided with her maidens.