The hint was taken, and Mr. Mildmay was able to speak a few sentences without interruption. "Well, we left together, Polwhele and I, at nine o’clock, as we intended. ’Twas pitch dark. We had quitted the grounds but half a minute, and were walking along by that stone hedge near the mine-shaft, when we fell headlong over a rope stretched across the road. Before we could get to our feet, hang me if a crowd of ruffians didn’t fling themselves upon us and well-nigh choke the breath out of our bodies. I hit out——" "So did I," said Mr. Polwhele, his feelings overcoming him. "So did Polwhele. I barked my knuckles." "So did I," said Mr. Polwhele. "So did Polwhele; but we might have been fighting air for all the good we did. The rascals held us down while they gagged and roped us——" "And never a word said," put in the riding-officer. "No, confound it all! ’Twas too dark to tell black from white. All the scoundrels were masked, and didn’t breathe a word we could identify ’em by. They roped us so that we couldn’t move hand or foot, and carried us we didn’t know where——" "Except that it was over plaguey rough ground. I was jarred and jolted till I felt as if all my joints were loose." "So was I," said Mr. Mildmay. "I knew no more till I found myself being hauled up a ladder, and then, confusion seize them! they lashed me to the bell——" "Mildmay on one side, I on t’other, the same rope going all round." "And there they left us all night. I didn’t get a wink of sleep——" "Nor I——" "Till the morning, and as soon as I dropped oft, that dunderhead Petherick must pull the bell-rope, and I felt a great thwack in the small of my back, and woke in a desperate fright. There was a second thump, and then it stopped, and we had peace for a few minutes." "That was when Petherick was telling me that I really must clear the tower of owls and bats," said the Vicar. "Bats!" cried Mr. Polwhele. "They were whisking me in the face all night." "And the owls were tu-whooing like fog-horns," said Mr. Mildmay. "Then the thumping began again, and I was jarred till I thought I should die. Then there came a horrible noise of fiddles and serpents and clarinets from below, and yowling and growling, and soon after Petherick’s head appeared through the hatch, and he had the impudence to laugh in our faces. When he had done cackling, he loosed us, and we crawled down the ladder more dead than alive, and here we are." [Illustration: "PETHERICK’S HEAD APPEARED THROUGH THE HATCH."] "And I lay my life ’twas John Trevanion’s plot," cried Mr. Polwhele hotly. "Never has such a scandalous outrage been known in Cornwall before. The Judas came to the door and bade us good-night, and said he was sorry we must go, but duty must be done—the detestable hypocrite."