"All right," he called drowsily. "What’s the time?" "I don’t know, sir," cried poor Susan through the door. "Please, sir, there be a passel o’ men firing shots at the Towers." "Nonsense!" said Trevanion. "’Tis gospel truth, sir. There be hundreds o’ men shoutin’ and hollerin’, and Cook be fainted dead away in kitchen." "Fling cold water on her, Susan. There’s nothing to be afraid of. They’re shooting rabbits, I’ve no doubt." Trevanion’s thought was that the smugglers had been checkmated at the creek, and then, in their fury, had attacked the Towers, believing that their discomfiture was due to an alliance between the Squire and the revenue officers. His chagrin at the loss of his expected profits was not so profound as his delight in the thought that the enmity he had so carefully fostered was bearing such rich fruit. Far be it from him to interfere. But being now effectually awakened, he bade Susan to return to the kitchen, dressed quickly, and went to an upper window whence he could see something of what was going on. The Towers was, however, too far away, and the air too misty, for him to observe the operations so closely as he would have liked, and, curiosity and malicious pleasure overcoming his prudence, he determined to set forth and watch from a more convenient standpoint the mischief which he hoped was afoot. But wishing not to attract attention, he forbade his household to leave the premises, issued by the back door, and slunk round the inside of one of his high fences. He had advanced about half-way to the Towers when he was startled to hear shots behind him, from the direction of the village. The sound brought him to a sudden halt, and a sickening misgiving seized him. Had the firing begun in the village, there is little doubt that he would have at once suspected the attack of which he had long been secretly in dread. But the fact that the Towers was being assaulted, so soon after the run was to have taken place, had thrown him off his guard. Now, in a flash, he remembered what Doubledick had said about his interview with Delarousse, and the misleading information given to the Frenchman. At the time, and since, he had been somewhat sceptical of the innkeeper’s veracity, but he began to think that his statement had, after all, been true. At any rate, it was the Towers that was in danger; the Dower House was at present safe; and after a brief pause of hesitation, he turned about and hurried back in the direction of his own house.