And Parson Langney, in a very genial mood, having but just returned from Hurst Court and the merrymakers there, presented himself at the doorway where his daughter made way for him. “You have a smuggler here, sir, whom I beg you to give up to justice,” said Tregenna. “I can prove that he hath taken a foremost part in a raid and a fight with my men; and sure Miss Joan may rest satisfied with what you have done for him, and let justice take its course now.” The parson glanced at his daughter with a change of countenance— “Well,” said he, “the soldiers are at Hurst Court; bring them hither, and make a search of my house, if you please. You will find but a poor fellow that lies sick with a wound in his leg. I fear me poor Tom will never live to take his trial if he be moved from where he lies with the fever that is on him now.” “He shall be used with all gentleness, sir, I promise you. And sorry am I to have to intrude upon you and your kind charity in this manner. But you are aware, sir, that I must do my duty.” “Ay, sir, as we do ours,” replied the parson, sturdily. “We ask not what a man has done when he comes to us for help. We ask but what we can do for him, be he friend or be he foe.” “I know it, sir. I have experienced your kindness—and Mistress Joan’s.” The young lady now stood a little in the background, looking anxious and perturbed. She hardly glanced at him when he uttered her name. “You will pardon me, sir, for being forced to incommode you thus.” “You must do your duty, sir,” retorted Parson Langney, dryly. “And you will admit us when we come with a warrant?” “Ay, sir.” Tregenna bowed and withdrew. Halfway down the garden path he heard a noise behind him, and turned. Parson Langney was busy rolling the keg of brandy into his house. On meeting the lieutenant’s eyes, the parson, hardly pausing in his labor, sang out with much simplicity— “’Tis but the physician’s fee, sir. And sure, the laborer is worthy of his hire!” And with that, he gave the keg a final roll, got it within doors, and drew the bolt. CHAPTER V. A LOAD OF HAY. Lieutenant Tregenna was quite prepared to find the gentlemen at Hurst Court in a very merry mood, after the hours which they had spent at the dinner-table since his abrupt departure. He sent in his message that his business was urgent, and chose to wait in the great hall, with the staghounds sniffing about his ankles, rather than have to discuss small-talk with the ladies, as the old butler wished him to do. In a few minutes Squire Waldron, not very steady as to gait, or clear as to utterance, came out of the dining-parlor, followed by the brigadier, who was less coherent still. The news of the murder of the coastguardsman, however, startled them both into sobriety; and the squire made less difficulty than Tregenna had expected about making out a warrant for the apprehension of the one man whom he had tracked down.