"Bless my life, parson," said Mr. Polwhele, "you don’t know these rascals. They’re as wary as otters and as slippery as eels. I’ll warrant they’d slip us in broad daylight, and as to the darkness of night, why, a regiment of soldiers wouldn’t be large enough to net ’em." "Well, to be practical," said the Squire. "You, Vicar, as a justice, can give Mr. Polwhele a warrant of search. You may unearth him in the village, and I should begin with the inn; Doubledick’s name suits him. With the coast closely watched by Mr. Mildmay’s men, the kidnappers cannot ship him. Sir Bevil will raise the hue and cry in the neighbourhood inland, and ’tis such a serious matter that I doubt whether any of the yeomen would connive at it. The name of _habeas corpus_ would scare them out of their wits. I’m inclined to think with Mr. Mildmay that the rascals will let him loose in a day or two when they see what a stir they have made; but of course we must not rely on that, but do our best to ferret him out." "Very well summed up, Squire," said the Vicar. "We cannot do more to-night; and, as ’tis not late, perhaps you and these gentlemen would favour me with a rubber. Polwhele trumped my trick last time," he added, under his breath. "With all my heart," cried the Squire. "Dick, bring the cards, and ask Reuben to fry some pilchards. All work and no play, Mr. Mildmay, you know——" The gentlemen were nothing loth to spend an hour or two in this way. They had supper at eight; the officers then left to attend to their nocturnal duties; and as Mr. Carlyon remained to play piquet with the Squire, Dick went to bed early, resolving to take some independent steps in the morning. CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH Cross-Currents Polkerran next day was the stage upon which a series of dramatic incidents were enacted, pure comedy to the spectators, but with a possible tragedy behind the scenes. At an early hour a mob of boys and girls, with a sprinkling of aged folk verging on second childhood, followed at the heels of Petherick, the constable, as he shambled through the streets, stopping at the corners to ring his bell, shout "Oyez! Oyez!" and mumble the formal words of Mr. Carlyon’s proclamation. He pretended to read them from the sheet of double foolscap that he held at arm’s length before him, but being perfectly illiterate, he in reality recited them by heart, the Vicar having devoted two solid hours since dawn in drumming them into the man’s head. His duty thus religiously performed, Petherick repaired to the tap-room of the Five Pilchards, where he discoursed for a time on _habeas corpus, felo de se_, and other magical prescriptions, relieving his dryness so frequently with rum-hot that he was at length overcome with emotion, and mingled his liquor with his tears.