It must be remembered that it was the twenty-sixth day of March, and so daylight began to fade soon after six o'clock, and as I wanted to reach the home of the Killigrews before dark, I rode rapidly. I puzzled my brains sorely to know by what pretext I could enter the house, also under what name I should present myself. I dared not tell them that I was a Trevanion, for my people were well known. We were well known to the Killigrews who had lived at Pendennis Castle, also to those who possessed a place a few miles from Truro. Moreover, all the Trevanions were stout Protestants, and as Colman Killigrew and his sons were rank Papists, I dared not appear to them under this guise. My pride rebelled against assuming a false name and professing a false religion, but I had promised Peter Trevisa, and as in those days I was not over-particular about such matters I vowed to let nothing stand in the way of my seeing the business through. My purpose was to stay at Endellion several days, else how could I accomplish my mission? In order to do this I must in some way establish some claim upon the owner thereof. There would be no difficulty in staying one night, or even two, for the laws of Cornish hospitality made this easy. No house of importance would close its doors to a traveller, be he rich or poor. I determined, therefore, to pretend that I was a member of an obscure branch of the Penryn family, who were well known to be Catholics; that I was the owner of a small Barton, and that I was anxious to see a Catholic king on the throne of England. That I had heard rumours of the probability of the grandson of King James coming to England, and that could a leader be found I might render assistance to the Catholic cause. Beyond this I decided upon nothing. If questions were asked me, I must trust to my wits. I determined to keep a cool head and open eyes. If the worst came to the worst I could fight with the best, indeed I rather hoped for difficult work. Presently I saw the tower of Endellion Church. It was on a little hillside, while all around the country was bare, as far as trees were concerned. I rode towards the little village, and seeing a strapping maid, I stopped and spoke to her. "Do you know where Squire Killigrew lives, my pretty maid?" I asked. She laughed in my face, revealing fine white teeth and shining blue eyes. "Iss, sur. Endellion." "This is Endellion, is it not?" I said, pointing to the church. "This is the Church Town, this is. Endellion es dree miles from we, right over ginst the say." "The Killigrews live there, you say? Do you know them?" "Knaw 'em. Who doan't?" "I don't, but I want to see them." The maid stared at me as though she were afraid, then she said almost fearfully. "Doan't 'ee knaw 'em?" "No," I replied. "Do they knaw you?" "No." "Then doan't 'ee go, sur. They'll kill 'ee, sur. They be terble, sur. They taake no noatice of the passon, nor the bible, sur."