"Madam," said he, "you may put this young gentleman to bed, and the sooner the better. He has lost a large sum of money, which I am fairly confident I can recover for him without his help; and your parish--which is also mine--has lost its character, and this also I propose to recover.

But to that end I must require your excellent husband to fetch out his trap and drive me with all speed to Squire Granville's." He paused, and added, "We are in luck to-night undoubtedly; but I fear I can promise him no such luck as to meet a hea.r.s.e and headless driver on the way. . . .

One moment, Mr. Menhennick! Have you such things as pen, ink and paper, and a farm-boy able to ride?"

"Certainly I have, sir."

"Then while you are harnessing your nag, I'll drop a line to the riding-officer at Polperro; and if after receipt of it he allows a single fishing-boat to leave the harbour, he'll be sorry--that's all.

Now, sir--Eh? Why are you hesitating?"

"Well, indeed, your reverence knows best; and if you force me to drive over to Squire Granville's, why then I must. But I warn you, sir, that he hunts to-morrow; and if, begging your pardon, you knew the old varmint's temper on a hunting day in the morning--"

"Hunts, does he? D'ye mean that he keeps a pack of hounds?"

"Why, of course, sir!"

Farmer Menhennick's accent was pathetically reproachful.

"G.o.d forgive me! And I didn't know it--I, your rector! Your rebuke is just, Mr. Menhennick. And this Church of England of ours--I say it with shame--is full of scandals. Where do they meet to-day?"

"Four-barrow Hill, your reverence."

"Oh, no, they don't. On that point you really must allow me to correct you. If they meet at all, it will be at--what d'ye call it?-- Cann's Gate."

And so they did. The Granville Hounds are, or were, a famous pack; but the great and golden day in their annals remains one on which they killed never a fox; a day's hunting from which they trailed homewards behind a hea.r.s.e driven in triumph by a very small clergyman without a head (for Mr.

Noy had donned the very suit worn by Satan's understudy, even to its high stock-collar pierced with eye-holes). That hea.r.s.e contained my chest of treasure; and that procession is remembered in the parishes of Talland, Pelynt, Lanreath, and Braddock to this day.

I did not see it, alas! Bed claimed the invalid, and Mrs. Menhennick soothed him with her ministering attentions. But Parson Noy reported the day's doings to me in a voice reasonably affected by deep potations at the "Punch Bowl Inn," Lanreath.

"My son, it was glorious! First of all we ran the turnpike-man to earth, and frightened him into turning King's evidence. He was at the bottom of the mischief, of course; and the hea.r.s.e we found--where d'ye think?

Close behind his house, sir, in a haystack--a haystack so neatly hollowed that it beat belief--with a movable screen of hay, which the rogues replaced when the coach was stowed! We found everything inside--masks, mourners' hatbands, the whole bag of tricks; everything, barring your treasure, and that the preventive men dug out of the hold of an innocent-looking lugger on the point to sail for Guernsey. Four of the rascals, too, they routed up, that were stowed under decks and sleeping like angels."

"And the coachman? And the guard?"

"Squire Granville has posted off half a dozen constables towards Falmouth; but I'll lay odds that precious pair are on shipboard before this and heading out to sea. I'm sorry, too, for they were the wickedest villains of the piece; but they'll be sorry before they have finished waiting at Guernsey. One can't expect everything; and Providence has been mighty kind to us."

"To me, at all events."

"And to me, and to my parish."

"Yes, to be sure," said I; "the parish is well rid of such a bogey."

"I wasn't thinking of that," said he dryly. "I've recovered my sermon."