"By heaven, I see it!" cried the Squire, smiting one fist with the other. "’Tis part of the scheme, Polwhele. They will stick at nothing. Penwarden caught young Tonkin cutting Dick’s lines, as you know, and I thrashed him. They avenge him by firing my house. I’ll clap them in jail; unpopular as I am, the justices can’t refuse to punish such a crime." "You’ve no proof, Squire," said Mr. Polwhele. "You can’t arrest the whole village on suspicion. And now I think of it, if it is as you say, there is no need to suppose your cousin is at the bottom of it. You have no proof." The Squire was silent. Mr. Polwhele’s view was no doubt that which would be taken by the majority of people. Mr. Trevanion was conscious of the weakness of his position, and regretted that in his impulsiveness and resentment he had spoken so freely. The only facts upon which his conviction of his cousin’s venomous treachery depended were the purchase of the mortgages and the subsequent fencing-in of the acquired property, and neither singly nor in combination were these strong enough to justify his accusation before reasonable people. "Well, well," said the Squire at last, "I may be wrong. I say no more about it. But this persecution has gone far enough, and ’tis time it was stopped, though how to stop it I know no more than the dead." "I’ll see what I can do, Squire. The Towers is saved, and glad I am of it. ’Tis to be hoped the wretches will try their tricks no more." He mounted and rode away, the Squire having warmly thanked him for his assistance. The four inmates of the Towers then returned to their beds. "You did well, Dick," said the Squire as they parted. "’Twas a good thought of yours to pull down the posts; without it we might have been burnt out. We’ll hold fast to the old place a while longer, my lad." To his wife he related all that had happened, and mentioned what Mr. Polwhele had said about his suspicion of John Trevanion. "I’ve no proof, that’s true; but in my heart I know it; time will show whether I’m right or wrong." CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH Sir Bevil Intervenes Soon after breakfast next morning Dick and Sam went down to the shore to launch their boat for a day’s fishing. The post to which it was moored being close under the cliffs, they did not come in sight of it until they reached the foot of the winding path. Then Sam, who was walking ahead, uttered a cry. "What is it?" asked Dick, hurrying on. "Scrounch it all, look ’ee, Maister Dick!" The boat lay on the white sand, but it was a navigable vessel no longer. It had been sawn across in three places. The old craft, which had withstood for forty years the battering of innumerable waves and the more insidious attacks of time, and in which three generations of Trevanions had sailed upon the deep, would be launched no more. It would henceforth serve no useful end except as firewood.