"Ah! yer reverence," he said with unction, "’tis a judgment, ’tis indeed. It do cut me to the heart to say so, but Maister John be the wicked cause of this affliction." "What do you mean, Doubledick?" asked the Vicar, with a sidelong glance at the Squire. "Do ’ee mind, sir, that night a while ago when the sojers wer ridin’ about country arter a runaway prisoner? Well, I own ’a was for a little small time in my inn; I’d never seed un afore, and didn’ know he wer a runaway till ’twas too late to gie un up." (Doubledick, it will be observed, was not over-scrupulous as to his facts.) "While he was here, Maister John came down from Dower House and seed un, and they hollered at each other in the French lingo till my ears wer drummin’. Ah! ’twas then I first had my mispicions o’ Maister John." "Cut your story short, man," said Mr. Carlyon impatiently. "Well, then, yer reverence, when I went over to France, the Frenchy telled me as how Maister John, Robinson by name, wer his partner for ten year, and robbed him right and left. Ah! he was a clever rogue, too, keepin’ in the background so as our Polkerran men shouldn’ see un when they wented over to—to sell fish. And Delarousse swore to me, ’a did, that he’d take vengeance on him, and now he be come to do it, sure enough. If I may make so bold, I’d say let the Frenchy take Maister John and leave us in peace. I don’t want to see my inn riddled wi’ shots and crumbled about my ears." "Iss, and so say I," cried Tonkin. "Delarousse telled me the self-same story, but I didn’ believe un; no, I couldn’ believe as Maister John were sech a ’nation rogue. I must believe it, now Doubledick hev telled us all. Let un go, sir, and be-jowned to un." Fierce cries of approval broke from the crowd, but the Squire held up his hand for silence. "Let me have a word, neighbours," he said. "We’re Cornishmen, every man of us, and good subjects of King George. We can’t allow a French raiding party to arrest a man on English soil, whatever his character may be. ’Tis flat treason; what do you say, Vicar?" "I agree with you. As a magistrate, neighbours, I say we must do our duty." "I won’t go agen Squire and pa’son," cried Tonkin. "I stand up for King Jarge." "King Jarge for ever!" shouted the crowd. "Well, then," said the Vicar, "we’ll hold our ground here until the yeomanry come up, and then we’ll storm the inn. God save the King!" At this moment Dick pushed his way through the crowd. "The privateer is under weigh, sir," he cried, "and standing in for the harbour." All eyes were turned towards the sea. The _Aimable Vertu_, which had been lying off the headland, almost concealed by the mist, was steering for the fairway, evidently with the intention of coming to the assistance of the landing-party. "Where’s Mr. Mildmay?" cried the Squire. "’Tis for him to capture that rascally privateer."