"’Tis treason-felony and hangman’s job if you’re not speaking the truth," said the sergeant. "Confusion take him, we’ll have to ride on. Look here, Tom; you stay here with Matthew and keep your eye on the door. The rest of us will ride on after the carriage, and come back to you if we catch our man." "What rascal of a deserter be you a-chasin’ by night, captain?" cried Doubledick. "No deserter, but a prisoner that escaped from Plymouth. We’ve been after him all day and all night, and smite me if it don’t seem he has given us the slip. Come on, men." The sergeant rode off with three of his men, the other two dismounting and taking up their stand at the door. "I reckon I can go back to my warm bed now, eh, sojers?" said Doubledick. "But ye’re sappy wet, poor fellers, and tired too, to be sure, hikin’ arter a runaway prisoner all day and all night. Bide a minute till I’ve pulled a few garments on my cold limbs, and I’ll come down and give ’ee summat to warm yerselves." The nightcap disappeared, a candle was lighted, and in a few minutes Doubledick came to the door with two steaming beakers of hot brandy and water, which the troopers accepted gratefully. Dick, from the shadow of an alley, had seen and heard all that went on. The soldiers chatted with the innkeeper for a while; then he retired into the inn, shut the door, and put out the light. A minute or two afterwards Dick saw a figure stealing down the steps at the side of the inn, peep round the corner, and then retreat hastily. He supposed it was one of the men whom he had seen at the door previously, but was unable to distinguish his features, owing to the deep shadows thrown on the alley-steps by the moon. To avoid discovery himself, he shrank back against the blind wall. It must now, he thought, be nearly midnight; but, wet though he was, he determined not to leave the spot until he had seen how the matter ended. Having been behind the wall when the carriage drove away, he was not sure whether the passenger had re-entered it or not. The hurried manner in which the man had gone into the inn was not that of one who intended coming forth again. Doubledick had lied when he said that he knew nothing of the occupant of the carriage; yet why should he harbour an escaped prisoner, who was almost certainly a Frenchman? The mystery was deeper than ever. It was perhaps an hour later, and Dick was on the point of going home, when the silence of the night was again broken by the sharp ringing clatter of hoofs. The sergeant and his three men returned, a white mist rising from their horses’ backs. "We caught the carriage," said the sergeant, as he rode up, "but ’twas empty as a sucked egg. The driver said he’d lost his way on the moor coming from Truro, and was going on home to Redruth. Have you seen anything?" "Not a thing," replied one of the troopers at the door.