"Because there are no evidences of it. She left Treviscoe last night, not many hours after I left, at least such is Peter Trevisa's opinion. He sent for me early this morning, and on my arrival I found him like one demented. The maid had crept out of the house with her servant, and had themselves saddled the horses and rode them away." "And left no traces behind?" "Not a trace." "But did she hold any conversation with Peter Trevisa after you had left?" The lawyer gave a start. "I had not thought of that," he said hastily. "Look you, Hendy," I cried, for the time forgetting that in an hour or so I should be on my way to Launceston jail, "I have puzzled my brains sorely concerning this. Do you know the history of the business?" "I think so; yes. Trevisa has been obliged to tell me." "Has he told you why he wished the maid brought to Treviscoe?" "No--that is, beyond what he told you." "You mean that young Peter had fallen in love with her?" "That is it." "But that cannot be all; he would never wish her brought to Treviscoe unless he had some powerful reason to urge to the maid for the course he had taken." "I think you are right." "Have you any idea what the reason is?" "No." "Do you think he tried its effects last night?" Mr. Hendy was silent. "It might have miscarried, you know," I continued eagerly; but the old attorney spoke no word, instead he walked to and fro the room as though cogitating deeply. An hour later I was on horseback again, and proceeded under the charge of four men towards Launceston, a town situated on the extreme borders of the county, where at that time one of the county jails was situated. CHAPTER XIX. LAUNCESTON CASTLE.