Next day the escape of Jean Delarousse, smuggler and privateer, was the talk of the countryside. The dragoons had called at the Towers and roused the Squire from bed, supposing that he was a magistrate and would assist them. Then they rode for several miles across the moor until they came to Sir Bevil Portharvan’s house. That gentleman promised to raise the hue and cry next day, and called up his servants to ask if any of them had seen a carriage cross the moor that evening. The groom declared that as he rode back from an errand in Truro he had seen a moving light some distance to the left, concluding that it probably proceeded from a belated carrier’s cart on the way to Polkerran. On this the troopers galloped back, and seeing a light in the Dower House they called there and acquainted John Trevanion with their errand. He guessed at once that the fugitive had been in the carriage which had turned into his drive, and inwardly cursed his ill-luck in missing the opportunity of laying by the heels a man whose recapture would have rejoiced him; but having reasons of his own for not disclosing his knowledge of the man, he forbore to mention the earlier incident, and contented himself with wishing the pursuers success. When they had gone he cloaked himself and followed them down the hill, being but a few hundred yards behind Dick, whom he did not see in the darkness and the twists and turns of the road. There was not a man in the village but suspected that the Frenchman had got away on Tonkin’s lugger; but not one of them would have said a word to betray him. Delarousse was not an enemy, but a friend with whom they had profitable dealings. When Sir Bevil rode down and questioned Doubledick and others, it was clear to him from their manner that they would give no information; and guessing, when he heard that Tonkin had sailed early that morning, that the Frenchman had gone with him, he was rather relieved than otherwise, for, like all the gentry around, he bought his liquor cheap, and was never depressed when the revenue officers were outwitted. Two days passed. Sam Pollex reported that there was a subdued air of excitement in the village. Mr. Polwhele, the riding-officer, was seen speaking to Penwarden, and the revenue cutter, which had been absent for some time, once more anchored in the little harbour. Mr. Mildmay did not come ashore: he seldom did so during the smuggling season; but one of his men trudged up the hill to Penwarden’s cottage, and did not return. These facts made Dick tingle with excitement: but the Squire had forbidden him to go near the smugglers again, so that he was unable to keep watch for the run which he, like everyone else in Polkerran, expected to take place. On the third morning, when Dick was tramping over the cliff with his gun towards a cleft where he had heard that a pair of choughs had nested, he saw Penwarden smoking on the bench beside his cottage door. "Morning to ’ee, Maister Dick," he said.