"Mr. Penwarden is not here; something has happened to him. You don’t know anything about him?" "Do ’ee say it? Lawk-a-deary, and me so late and all! My darter was took bad this morning, or——" "Do you know anything about him?" repeated Dick. "Not a mossel, sir. I hain’t seed the gaffer since I gied un his dinner yesterday. Save us all! What a moil and muddle things be in!" "Yes, I don’t know what has happened. Tidy up, and bring the door-key to the Towers. I am going now." He hastened home, and told the Squire what he had discovered, and what his suspicions were. Mr. Trevanion, often supine and sluggish in matters concerning himself, was energetic enough when he heard of wrong or injustice suffered by others. "This is scandalous!" he exclaimed. "Do you go at once and find Mr. Polwhele, Dick. I will hurry to the parson. Stay, I’ll give Sam a note for Sir Bevil; we must raise a hue and cry after the old man. Where is Mildmay, I wonder?" "Mr. Polwhele was going to signal to him, sir," said Dick. "That’s right. He must watch the coast. I’ve heard of the wretches shipping off to France preventive men who make themselves troublesome. ’Tis ten to one they will serve Penwarden so; that vessel you saw may have come for that purpose." Within a few minutes the three active members of the household had gone their several ways. Dick hastened for the second time to see the riding-officer. As he went he came to a resolution. The smugglers, it was clear, were determined on pursuing their policy of persecution. All who opposed them, or whom they supposed to be their opponents, would have to reckon with their remorseless animosity, which might express itself in open violence or deeds of stealth as necessity demanded. It was to be war, and, as events were shaping themselves, war between the village and the Towers. Well, the war should be fought out. The quarrel had been forced on the Trevanions; they had not willingly departed from their neutrality; but matters had now gone so far that to remain neutral was impossible, and Dick resolved to take once for all the side of the law. He anticipated some difficulty in bringing his father to adopt the same attitude; but at the present moment the Squire was so indignant with the smugglers that, even if he was not ready to throw himself into active opposition to them, he might not forbid Dick to do so. Feeling that at such a crisis all quiet work at his books was impossible, Dick determined to beg Mr. Carlyon to release him, and to devote himself heart and soul to the contest, whether of wits or weapons. The first object must be the rescue of Joe Penwarden. Mr. Polwhele was still at home. "This is a new thing, ’pon my life," he said, when Dick had told him his tidings. "Till now the villains have been only on the defensive; to take the offensive means there’s a new spirit working in ’em. D’you think, now, that your father is right, and John Trevanion is the man behind?"