As I have said, the task I had set myself was not an easy one. First of all, I should have to leap several feet to a ledge, which was by no means wide, and then I should have to grasp the pipe, as well as some ivy which had climbed up by its side. If I failed to reach the ledge I should fall, I knew not how far; or if the pipe yielded to my weight, the same thing would happen. But I did not hesitate. My blood was hot, and the[Pg 83] spirit of adventure overmastered me. Besides—and I must confess it if I will tell my story truly—in spite of my hatred of women, I felt a great desire to see the maid I had promised to take to Treviscoe. I recked not of consequences—nay, I had a sort of pleasure in dangerous deeds.

So I made the leap without hesitation, although a curious feeling possessed me as I thought of the yawning darkness underneath me. I reached the ledge in safety, and the thing I grasped held firm. Then, without waiting a second, I started to climb. It was weary work, for the ivy yielded, and the crevices wherein I could stick my feet were few. But I had often attempted this kind of thing as a boy, and before long I placed my arm round one of the huge merlons which the ancient Killigrews had caused to be placed there; and in a few seconds I lifted myself up so that my head was raised some distance above the stonework. I had scarcely done this when I heard a slight scream, which came so suddenly that I was in danger of relaxing my hold. Instinctively divining what this meant, however, I made a low sound suggesting silence, and before long stood on the roof.

It had been a hard climb, and I panted freely, looking round meanwhile for the one who had screamed. At first I could see nothing but chimneys; but presently I saw two dark forms hiding by a portion of the roof which stood somewhat higher than the rest. I walked slowly towards them.

Even now I am conscious of a strange feeling[Pg 84] at heart as I remember that night. For there in the bright moonlight appeared a spectacle which was almost awesome. The sight of the sea and the rock-bound coast burst suddenly upon me. Below, hundreds of feet down, the waves cast themselves on the beach, which was studded with huge masses of rock. The sea shone in the light of the moon, and behind the crest of every wave was a great streak of silver lustre, fair to behold. Far out, I could see the waves a-dancing, while here and there the lights of distant vessels shone. Away to the right, Tintagell, perchance the mightiest coast-rock in England, lifted its hoary head, while to the left the bare, rugged cliffs, in spite of the soft moonbeams, looked chill and drear.

And I was there—behind the battlements of the home of the Killigrews—alone save for the presence of two helpless women. All this came to me quickly—I seemed to realize it in a moment; and then I shook the feeling from me, for I remembered I had work to do.

"'Tis he," I heard a voice say, which I recognized as that of Amelia Lanteglos. And then I saw the other maid, whose face was partly hidden, turn towards me.

"Be not afraid," I said as gently as I could; for though I would have little to do with them, I loved not to frighten women.

"What would you, sir?" said a voice, low and sweet. "Amelia, my serving-maid, hath persuaded me to come here to-night. It is against my better judgment I have come, but——" then[Pg 85] she stopped as though she knew not how to finish what she had begun to say.

I cannot deny it, I felt something like pity for the maid. Her voice was sad and plaintive. It suggested weariness, loneliness—and no man is unmoved by such things. I felt ashamed, too. I had promised to take her to Treviscoe, to be the wife of Peter Trevisa; for I had little doubt but that if those two men once got her there, they would try to frame arguments strong enough to make her yield to their wishes. But this was only for a moment. I reflected that women were as little to be trusted as April weather, and would veer around like a weathercock. I remembered my own love affair, and called to mind the words the girl Boscawen had said to me only a few days before she threw me over for Prideaux.

"I would speak to you alone for a few minutes," I said, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

"Your hand is bleeding," she said kindly; "and—and how did you get here?"

"I climbed from the old castle wall."

"But it is impossible—it could not be! No one could do it!" This she said in low, broken whispers, but like one frightened.

"But I am here," I replied grimly; "and there was no other way of getting here from my chamber. One has to risk something if you are to be saved from the Killigrews."

"What do you know of the Killigrews?" she asked eagerly.

She followed me a few steps out of ear-shot of the serving-maid, still keeping her face hidden.

[Pg 86]

"I know that you are to be the wife of Otho Killigrew, unless desperate measures are taken," I replied. "I know, too, that Benet Killigrew professes to love you."

"How do you know?"

"You are Mistress Nancy Molesworth, are you not?"

"Yes, and you are Master Roger Penryn, so my maid tells me. But I do not know you."

She let the shawl with which she had wrapped her head fall, and for the first time I saw her face. She was but little more than twenty years of age, and in the moonlight looked younger. As far as I could judge, her hair was of chestnut hue, and it flashed brightly even in the night light. Her face appeared very pale, and her eyes shone as though she were much excited; but she was a very beautiful maid. She was not of the timid, shrinking kind which some men love, but stood up before me bravely, for the which even then I was glad. Nor was she little, and weak; rather she was taller than most women, and shaped with much beauty.

"It matters but little whether you know me or not, if you will trust me," I said. "Believe me, I have come to take you away from this den of cutthroats to a place of safety."

"Where?"

"Where would you go?" I asked.

My head was bare, and my face was plainly to be seen, so bright was the night. I felt her eyes fastened upon me, and it seemed to me as though she were reading my innermost thoughts. But I[Pg 87] was not to be baulked by a girl, so I tried to appear unconcerned as she gazed.

"You met John Polperro at the Arundells," I continued. "He has offered his hand to you in marriage, but your guardian refused. Last night he came here and repeated that offer, but it was declined. He is a fine fellow, Polperro, and spoke boldly."

"I know," said she—speaking, as I thought, more to herself than to me.

"After your guardian had refused his request that you might become his wife," I went on, "he offered you a home in his father's house. He spoke hotly, indiscreetly, but still as an honest man; that offer was also refused. Perchance you have been informed of this?"

She did not speak, nor did she make any sign whatever.

"It is impossible for Polperro to help you now. If he again appears in the neighbourhood, he will receive steel for a welcome. But I admire him. I am always proud to call such as he my friend; so if I can take you to his father's house, I shall be doing a good deed, and rendering a service to one he loves."

This I said in a stammering kind of way, for somehow the girl's eyes made me feel uncomfortable. I wished she would not look at me so steadfastly.

"Know you Master John Polperro?" she asked presently.

"Else why should I be here?" I responded, wishing I had adopted some other plan of action.[Pg 88] I hated this underhanded method of work, and the maid's eyes looked truthful. I should have felt far more at ease could I have taken her away by force than have subjected myself to this kind of work. Still, circumstances had made force of such kind impossible. Had the maid been allowed her liberty, I might have accomplished my purpose differently; but being a safely guarded prisoner, I had to gain her confidence.

"And you came here by his wish? You are trying to do what he found impossible?"

I bit my lip with vexation. Why should she ask such questions. Was I not planning to take her away from a place where she was unhappy?

"It was no easy thing to get from my bed-chamber here," I replied evasively. "A single slip, and I should either have been killed or crippled for life. Neither is it an easy thing to deal with these Killigrews. But for my promise to the man, I tell you I would not have attempted it."

"Your promise to whom?" she asked, and I cursed myself for being a fool. Why could I not have boldly told the necessary lies? I had intended to. Chance had given me the finest possible opportunity. I found no difficulty in trying to deceive old Colman Killigrew. Why, then, should this chit of a maid make me stammer? What could be more easy than to tell her that I, being a stranger to the Killigrews, and a friend of John Polperro, had come here to take her to a place of honour and safety?

"To whom should my promise be given?" I said. "I spoke to your maid that she might tell[Pg 89] you of my desire to meet you. I have risked my life to get here, and I have a difficult game to play with the Killigrews."

I was angry beyond measure with myself for telling of any danger I had encountered. Had I been acting a straightforward part, I should not have mentioned it; but now I had a feeling that such words were necessary.

"If you will consent to trust me," I went on clumsily, for I felt her eyes upon me as I spoke, "I will arrange plans whereby I can take you away. I could be ready by to-morrow night. It could be done without detection. A rope could be fastened around yon battlements—it is only a dozen feet or so to the old castle walls. From thence it is not difficult of descent. I could get horses in readiness, and in a few hours we could be out of danger."

"And if you were discovered?" she asked abruptly.

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to fight the Killigrews," I replied grimly.

I knew there was a gulf between us. She did not trust me. She doubted every word I was saying. I wished the light were not so good, so that she might not see my face so plainly. And yet I had her at advantage. She loved not the Killigrews—she hated the thought of wedding Otho. Probably I appeared as her only hope of escaping from them. I could see the girl Amelia Lanteglos watching us closely. Doubtless she was wondering as to the upshot of our conversation.

[Pg 90]

"Do you think I gain any advantage by coming here?" I went on like a fool. "I never saw you until this hour. I have no spite against the Killigrews, they never harmed me. It would not harm me if you were to marry Otho. Possibly he would make you as good a husband as—as another. But I—I gave a promise that I would set you free, if I could. However, if you prefer to fly to the open arms of Otho,—well——" I shrugged my shoulders, and tried to hum a tune as I looked across the shining sea.

I know I said this brutally; but the maid angered me—angered me by the truthfulness of her looks, and the way she made me bungle the thoughts I had in my mind.

She continued to look at me steadfastly. Perhaps she remembered that if she accepted my offer, and if I succeeded in effecting her escape, she would have to travel alone with a man of whom she knew nothing. Presently she seemed to have made up her mind.

"You seem to be a gentleman," she said; "you speak as if you——" she hesitated as though she could not put her thoughts into words.

I remained silent.

She made a sudden movement forward, and placed her hand on my arm. "I am alone, helpless," she said. "I am surrounded by those I cannot trust. I hate—loathe the thought of——" again she stopped suddenly; then, looking straight into my face, she said: "Are you what you seem to be?"

It came upon me like a clap of thunder, and,[Pg 91] like a schoolboy discovered in theft, I hung my head.

"Is your name Roger Penryn?" she asked.

"No!"

"Do you know John Polperro?"

"No!"

The words came from me like shots from a musket. I could not tell a lie with the girl's cruel, truthful eyes upon me. They choked the falsehood in my throat, and I felt myself to be the sport of this maid who knew nothing of the world. I was glad I had told the truth, and yet I reproached myself for being beaten at the first definite move in the game I was playing. Probably the whole thing had been rendered impossible by my madness. Trevanion was gone from me forever; but, worse than that, I should have to confess to Peter Trevisa that I had failed to do the thing I had promised—that I had bungled most miserably.

I turned to go away. I would speak no more with her. She had been too much for me—she, a simple maid scarcely out of her teens. I had scarcely taken a step, however, before she stopped me.

"Then you are another tool of the Killigrews," she said. "There are not enough of them, and they must needs hire you. Not being able to work their will with me, even although I am a prisoner, they must needs use some other base means to accomplish their purpose." This she said passionately, yet with fine scorn.

"There you are wrong, Mistress Nancy Molesworth," I said warmly, for she had wounded me[Pg 92] sorely. "I am not the tool of these people. Nay, my life is in danger while I stay here. But enough of that. You refuse to accept my help?"

"How can I accept the help of a man who comes with a lie on his lips?" she cried;—"who comes professing a false name, and who pretends to be the friend of a man to whom he never spoke. How can I trust a man whose every action and every word is a lie?"

"Had I been a liar," I said, "I could have deceived you easily; but enough. There is no need that I should weary you with my presence. Some time perhaps——"

"If your name is not Roger Penryn, what is it?" she said; "and why have you tried to raise my hopes only to deceive me?"

I opened my mouth to tell her my name, but I could not utter the word. I could not tell her I was a Trevanion, nor relate to her my purpose in coming hither.

"It is not well I should speak to you further," I said. "But I have wrought you no harm. Neither would I if you had trusted in me. Nay, as God is my witness,"—and this I cried out passionately, for somehow the maid dragged the words from me,—"I would have let no harm have happened to you!"

With this I walked to the spot where I had ascended, and prepared to descend.

"Stop!" she whispered. "It will be far more difficult to go down than it was to come up."

"What of that?" I replied grimly.

"Because,"—and a blush mantled her cheek,[Pg 93]—"there is another road down. Look, yonder is the stairway."

"There is a sentinel."

"He is a lover of my maid," she replied. "She would lead him away a few steps out of sight while you got to your own chamber."

"But I should have to pass through your apartments."

"Amelia shall show you the way. I will remain here."

"No," I replied, for I was angry with her. "I will not be beholden to you in any way."

For the first time she looked at me kindly, but I took no heed. I placed my arm around the merlon, and then, grasping the gutter, lowered myself. I had often accomplished such feats, and this fact helped me now. In a few minutes I had reached the ledge, and a little later stood on the old castle walls again. Arrived there, I stopped and listened; but no sound reached me. I looked up, and saw that the maid Nancy Molesworth had followed my descent—saw that she was watching me now. There was an expression of wonder, of bewilderment, on her face. Doubtless she was seeking to divine who I was, and why I should come to her. I was sure she wanted a friend, too. But I knew not what to say—I had forfeited my right to help her. I suppose I was foolish at the moment, however. Most men are at times.

"Good-night, Mistress Nancy Molesworth," I said. "Remember that I am your friend. Perhaps some day I may be able to show it." Then I[Pg 94] squeezed myself into my bed-chamber, feeling ill pleased with myself.

I pulled off my clothes, and got to bed; but I could not sleep. Two conflicting forces were at war within me. One moment I reproached myself as a fool for not being able to deceive a slip of a maid without stammering. The next I found myself pitying her, and calling myself a traitor to my name for not seeking to rescue her from the Killigrews. Sometimes I cursed myself for being as easily moved as a boy of twenty-one, not able to withstand the simple questions of a convent-school girl; and again I reproached myself for yielding to Peter Trevisa's wishes, and undertaking a work unfit for a man of honour.

Presently a more serious matter presented itself to me. Should I abandon Peter Trevisa's commission? The maid had practically rejected my offer. Should I go back to Treviscoe and tell him that I had failed? Should I forever carry around with me the memory of the fact that I had made a promise to do a thing, and then at the first difficulty I had given it up like a puling girl? I had taken his money, I had given my word that I would do his work;—could I give it up? Even although Trevanion did not lie at the end of the business, it were unfair and cowardly to fail in my undertaking thus. Well, supposing I decided to make a second attempt; suppose I decided to devise new means to take the maid away—there were many obstacles in my road. Old Colman Killigrew expected me to depart the next day. I had promised to take his messages to some[Pg 95] Catholic families in the south of the country, and I should have no excuse for staying at Endellion. Once outside the house, my power to do anything would be gone.

"Let it be so," I said to myself angrily. "I will leave the whole business in the lurch. Let old Peter do his work as best he may, and let the maid Nancy Molesworth fight her own battles with these Killigrews. To-morrow I will start for London, and there I will seek for work more congenial to me. If this Charles comes to England, King George will need good swords." But even as these thoughts passed through my mind, I was not satisfied with them. I felt I should be playing a coward's part, and was seeking some other way whereby to better satisfy myself, when I heard a low knocking at the door. I did not speak, and the rapping became louder.

"Who is there?" I asked, like one awaked out of sleep.

"Otho Killigrew," said a voice.