"I like not to refuse you anything, Trevanion," said Boscawen, "you rendered such signal service. Well, if the fellow will give his word that he will in no way help the Pretender's cause, I will for your sake set him at liberty." "Aye, I will promise, gladly," cried Benet; "I hate the whole business." "Then you are free," said Boscawen. "Good!" cried Benet, "and, by Heaven, I love you, Trevanion; I love you! And I have your promise. Another time?" "Yes, another time." He took his sword, and laughed a great laugh. "It is well," he said; "I love you for a man, and you are more worthy of the maid Nancy than I." He left then, and a few seconds later was lost in the darkness, for by this time the beacon fire began to burn low. Of all that was said during the next half-hour I have but little remembrance. Many questions were asked me which I answered as well as I was able, and many things I heard which I was but little able to understand, for my mind was sorely exercised as to what had become of my dear maid. After a time, however, I was able to get a word with Hugh Boscawen alone, when I told him of what Otho Killigrew had said. "We will go thither," he cried; "I myself will accompany you to the house. If we be quick, we shall be able to capture this fellow. He at least will be a valuable prisoner." So as quickly as possible we set out for Restormel, but so anxious was I that I fretted and fumed at the delay in starting and the slowness of our journey. Morning was breaking when we reached Restormel, and the sight of the house set my heart beating fast for joy, for I hoped that soon I should hold my love in my arms again. But sore disappointment was in store for me. We found the house empty save for Adam Coad and his wife. Neither of them knew where Nancy was. All the old man could remember was that they had heard a noise in the house, and when they had searched for his mistress she was nowhere to be found. Again I remembered Otho's words, and then my overtaxed nature yielded to the continuous strain; I felt my blood grow cold and head grow dizzy. After that all became dark to me. CHAPTER XXVIII. OTHO KILLIGREW'S LAST MOVE. I suppose I must have been sorely ill, for consciousness did not return to me for some time, and even when it did I was much bewildered and sadly weak. My memory played me many tricks, too, and I have been told since that my words were wellnigh meaningless. Hugh Boscawen sent for the doctor whose drugs had done me so much good the previous day, and on his arrival I was put to bed, and after having drunk a large quantity of the decoction he prepared, I became unconscious again. I suppose the stuff must have been a kind of sleeping draught, for although it was yet morning when I had been put to bed, daylight was altogether gone when I awoke. The room in which I lay was lighted by means of a candle, and by my side sat Mr. Inch the doctor. "How long have I been asleep?" I asked.