As he put this question to himself, he heard a door open in the corridor above, and saw the glimmer of a rushlight reflected on the ceiling. The old woman who had received him and the brigadier on their previous visit to the farm had come out into the corridor and was moving slowly towards the back of the house. In a few moments she returned with a much quicker step, and coming to the head of the staircase, called, in an anxious whisper— “Ann!” From the kitchen, at that moment, there came the sound of the flinging down of something heavy, with a noise that echoed in the old rafters above. “Ann!” repeated the old woman more shrilly. Ann’s voice had a muffled sound, as she answered, as if she were speaking from a great distance— “Hey, mother, is’t you?” “Ay, lass. There’s summat wrong. I minded a while ago to have left the passage window open, with the rain coming in. And now I find it shut, and marks of a man’s tread on the floor here!” Ann’s answer rang out sharp and clear— “Right, mother. I’ll see to’t! Go you back to bed!” The old woman lingered but for one instant, turning to the right and to the left the iron stand which held her rushlight. Naturally the feeble light showed her very little. The prints of muddy boots were continued down the stairs, but she did not care to trace them out, feeling, probably, that such investigations might safely be left to the energetic Ann. With a grunt and a muttered grumble she retreated into her own room, and Tregenna heard her draw the bolt on the inner side of the door. He heard the click of a pistol which, as he imagined, the intrepid Ann was trying. But he felt that the moment for decisive action had come. He would not be discovered hiding behind the staircase like a thief. Coming out of his corner, therefore, he went into the big kitchen, to present himself to the redoubtable Ann. The great hall looked a weird place, with the flickering of the log-fire and the glimmer of a dying torch for all illumination. Round about the wide hearth were piled bales of goods and kegs of spirits, while the table groaned under a weight of jugs and tankards, joints of beef, and long, flat home-made loaves, generous preparation for the smugglers’ supper. In front of the hearth and between the two wide oak settles there was a gaping chasm, a hole in the floor of which Tregenna was not long in guessing the meaning. The heavy wooden lid, by day artfully concealed by a piece of rough matting, apparently placed there for the comfort of the old people who sat on each side, was now thrown back; and it was by this lid that the solitary occupant of the huge apartment was now standing. Although he was in part prepared for the discovery, Tregenna gave a slight start on finding himself face to face with this being.