"I don’t want to say what I think, Mr. Polwhele," replied Dick. "Whether he is or not, we must put a stop to it. I can’t do much, but what I can do I will." "I’m glad to hear it. The curious thing is that John Trevanion has but lately been here. One of the fishers had told him of the strange vessel, and he came for the same purpose as you, to ask me to signal to Mr. Mildmay. He said it was scandalous that the Frenchman should be allowed to cruise at large." "Do you think she came to ship Penwarden away, sir? That is my father’s idea." "’Tis a notion, now, but not likely, unless John Trevanion came here to throw me off the scent. You saw no small boat pulling to the ship, did you?" "No, sir." "Then I think the Squire is wrong. Now, seemingly, Mr. Mildmay has not seen my signal, but he must be somewhere off the coast. As soon as ’tis dark I will show a light with my telescope lantern; that will fetch him; and if you are ready to join hands with us, I will bring him to the Towers and we’ll hold a council of war. Will the Squire agree to it?" "I don’t know. I’ll ask him, and if you’ll meet me at six o’clock on the bridge yonder, I will tell you what he says." When the Squire returned from his visit to the Parsonage, Dick opened his mind to him. At first Mr. Trevanion shrank from definitely committing himself to the cause of the revenue officers, but when Dick pointed out that his position could scarcely be worse than it was, and that the Trevanion influence might still have some weight with the better-disposed among the village folk, he consented to the riding-officer’s proposal. "The vicar is coming over this evening," he said. "We shall at any rate have all the wisdom of the parish." At half-past six there met in the Squire’s room, Mr. Mildmay, the riding-officer, Mr. Carlyon, and Dick. They drew their chairs to the fire; the elder men lit their churchwarden pipes, and, with glasses of steaming toddy at their elbows, proceeded to discuss the situation. "I have a note from Sir Bevil," said the Squire. "He is sending to Truro for assistance. What shape that may take I don’t know." "The shape of a constable or two, probably," said Mr. Polwhele, "and if they are no better than Petherick, they won’t help us much." "Petherick shall cry the village to-morrow," said the Vicar. "Being a justice as well as parson, I have written out a proclamation, summoning all good and true men to give information that will lead to the discovery of Penwarden, dead or alive." "I don’t believe they’d murder him," said Mr. Mildmay, "or they wouldn’t take the trouble to spirit him away. A crack on the head would be a much simpler matter." "What do you suppose is their object in kidnapping him?" asked the Vicar.