"Well now I'll tell 'ee. But law, ere be your 'am rashers and eggs. Haive to em now. They rashers ded cum from a pig thirty-score wight, the beggest in this parish. Look top the graavy too; they'll make yore uzzle like a trumpet fer sweetness. Ait em and I'll tell 'ee while you be feedin'. But law, ther's nuff fer boath ov us, I can allays craake better wen I'm aitin'." Accordingly he sat down by my side and helped himself liberally. "Well, naow, as I woz a-zayin'," he continued, "I ded'n go to bed till laate laast night. I was avin a bit of tolk weth the 'ow'll Martin ovver to Kernick. Do you know Martin?" "No." "Doan't 'ee fer sure, then? He's a purty booy, 'ee es. Years agone 'ee used to stail sheep in a coffin. Stoal scores an scores that way. Ave 'ee 'eerd ow 'ee nacked ovver the exciseman, then?" "No." "Ded'n 'ee? law, that wos a purty taale, that wos. 'Twud maake 'ee scat yer zides weth laffin. But there, you genlemen waan't care to do that. Wot wos us talkin' bout, then?" "You said you couldn't sleep last night." "To be zure I ded. I'll tell 'ee. Old Martin do do a bit ov smugglin', and do dail weth the smugglers, and as you be'ant a gover'ment man I may tell 'ee that he brought me a vew ankers of things laast night laate. He ded'n laive me till after twelve o'clock. Well, when 'ee wos gone off I went to bed, and wos just going off to slaip when our Tryphena beginned a squall. That zet off Casteena, and Casteena off Tamzin, and in a vew minutes the 'ouse wos like Bedlam. You be'ant married, be 'ee, sur?" "No." "Then you doan knaw nothin bout life, you doan't. Gor jay! ow they cheldern ded screech for sure. But they ded'n waake mauther, not they. She slaiped through et oal, and snored like a tomcat into the bargain. Aw she's a gefted wumman, my wife es. But owsummever, I got em off again arter a bit and got into bed again. I wos just gittin braave'n slaipy when I 'eerd the sound of osses comin from Kernick way. 'Gor jay!' ses I, 'tes the exciseman! He've bin fer ould Martin and now he's comin fer me.'" At this I became interested. "The sound of horses," I said; "were they coming fast?" "Aw iss, braave coose, but not gallopin'. Well I lied luff and wos oal ov a sweat, but twadd'n no excisemen t'oal, fer just as they got by the church gates they stopped for a minit." "What time was this?" "Aw 'bout haaf-past two or dree o'clock. Well, I 'eerd 'em talkin', and arter a bit I 'eerd a wumman spaik, so you may be sure I pricked up my ears like a greyhound when he do 'ear a spaniel yelp among the vuss bushes. So up I gits and looks out." "Well, and what did you see?" "A man and two wimmen." "Ah!" I cried. "Well, they ded'n stay long, for one of the wimmen zaid they wos vollied. She must a 'ad sharp ears, for I ded'n 'ear nothin'." "Which way did they go?" "They zeemed unaisy, when I 'eerd the man zay they wud go on to Scacewater, an' then turn back to Penhale." "Well?" I cried eagerly, "go on."