Bewildered as Herrick was by the strangeness of this discovery, he had nerve enough to pull himself together and go for assistance. In spite of the lateness of the hour, the Carr Arms was full of labourers drinking and smoking. A number of these came at once to the churchyard when they heard of the accident--for so Herrick put it---and Stephen was carried to his house. Herrick had ascertained before seeking assistance that his friend still lived. Meanwhile Sidney had revived, but was in a drowsy state. "I want to go home," he said. Herrick after whispering him to say nothing of the vision seen in the ink-pot, sent him to Biffstead in charge of the landlord Napper. Then he accompanied the body of his friend to "The Pines." Herrick could not help thinking of it as the body though he knew Stephen still lived. But it was quite probable that he would be an actual corpse before the dawn.

"Mr. Marsh-Carr has met with an accident," was the explanation of the doctor to his helpers, and they went away. But they knew very well that it was no accident, and moreover the presence of Sidney besides the body hinted that another wonderful event had taken place.

"Master Sidney said that his mother was dead," remarked the wiseacres, "and he has found the dead body of Mr. Marsh himself now!"

"He is not dead," said others.

"Ah! But he will die. Master Sidney, never makes a mistake." And by the next morning a legend had been circulated that the uncanny boy, had foretold the death of the new Squire. When those who called at 'The Pines' heard that Marsh-Carr had lived through the night, they were quite disappointed. It seemed a reflection on Master Sidney. Yet the boy had held his tongue and no one knew really what had happened. In default of the truth then, they took refuge in a fable. There was absolutely no authority for what was said, but Sidney had been found unconscious beside the unconscious Squire. That was enough material out of which to form a wonderful story, and it lost nothing in the telling.

Meanwhile, Herrick fulfilled his duties of medical attendant to his friend, smiling grimly the while, that the need should come so comparatively early in their acquaintance. He had known Marsh-Carr but a little over five months. The meeting had taken place in July and it was now near Christmas. The doctor examined the wound on the back of the head. It was a nasty jagged cut, evidently made by some blunt instrument. "A big stick as the boy said, no doubt," mused Herrick as he plastered and bathed and bound it up. "Stephen is stunned for the time being, but I do not think that the brain is injured. His head is pretty hard. Frisco had good intentions, but not sufficient judgment to strike hard." For of course it was Frisco who had done this. Dr. Jim remembered what Mrs. Marsh had said and regretted that she had passed away without informing him more fully of what she knew about Frisco. That the ex-sailor should dare to come down to the scene of his first crime in order to commit a second (for at the moment Herrick credited Frisco rather than Joyce with the Carr murder) was wonderful enough, but his reason must be more wonderful still. It was impossible that he should be able to get the fortune even if he put Stephen out of the way, for he was a proven murderer, and if he showed himself would be at once arrested. Certainly he might explain all suspicions away, but that was doubtful in the face of such strong evidence. Yet, apparently he had made up his mind to remove Stephen, and get the money.

"But he won't if I can help it," muttered Herrick, "the beast. I'll carry Stephen to the vault myself so that the terms of the monthly visit may be fulfilled. Not that I don't think he will be on his feet sooner than Frisco expects. The job had been badly done."

He sent in a message to Beorminster by a groom, telling Bridge of the new outrage and advising a search to be made for Frisco. Then the patient having been attended to and the would-be assassin recommended to the attention of the police, Dr. Jim could do nothing more. He sat before the library fire and smoked, thinking deeply the while.

"I wonder if Joyce attempted this murder," he thought. "There is something queer about this stopping here. But that boy said Joyce was at Biffstead talking to his sisters, if I believe one part of that vision--and I am bound to do that--I must believe the other. Not Joyce then, but there is Don Manuel, he is connected with Robin in some underhand way. Besides, he professed to hate Carr, to regret the loss of the treasure. It might be he, if he has been with Corn all the night well and good--if not, he will have to account to me for his time. I do not believe in the little reptile."

His meditations were ended by a sleepy servant who announced Ida, Bess and Frank. With them came Joyce wide-eyed with wonder; but so far as Dr. Jim could see there was no sign of terror or of guilt on his face, and Robin was not the man to conceal his feelings.

"Napper brought home Sidney and told us of this dreadful thing," said Bess who seemed the most collected of the party. "Is he--is he--"

"No, he is not dead nor do I think he will die. The blow was badly aimed."

"Who could have done it?" asked Frank frowning.

"I have my own opinion, but I prefer not to express it at present," said the doctor somewhat curtly.

"I want you to take me to him doctor," said Ida looking at him with imploring eyes. "Let me watch beside him."

"You can do no good Miss Endicotte," replied Herrick, "better let me look after him. To-morrow you can come over and watch if you like. I think he will recover consciousness before the dawn."

"Thank God for that!" cried Ida devoutly and then she wept. The strain on her had been very great and she was glad of the relief of tears.

"Have you looked for the man who did this?" asked Joyce.

"I have sent a message to the police at Beorminster," said Herrick without looking at him. "You can do no good Joyce; better go back to the inn. By the way your friend Santiago?"

"He has been with Corn all the night," said Frank, "we met them coming here. They had just heard the news, but Bess persuaded them to stay away thinking they would only bother you."

"I think it is best to keep the house as quiet as possible. Has Sidney said anything?" he asked looking at the sisters.

Ida clasped her hands in terror. "Did Sidney say this would happen?"

"Yes. He looked into yonder ink-pot and foretold the assault. I cannot understand the thing myself, but we can talk of it to-morrow. In the meantime, all of you hold your tongues about Sidney."

This they all promised to do and now being more at rest in their minds about Stephen, they went away. Herrick drew Bess aside at the door. "Come over with Ida to-morrow morning," he muttered, "I want to speak to you."

She nodded and ran after the rest who were disappearing into the darkness. Herrick with a frown returned to the library. "It was not Joyce," he muttered, "it was not Manuel. After all it _must_ be Frisco. Well, if the police are clever they will catch him before he can leave the district. Ha! I'll send a message to Southberry, it was that way he escaped last time."

Herrick hastily wrote out an explanation. He did not need to add a description of Frisco as the hand-bills had sufficiently described him. This he sent off with another groom, then went to pass the night beside the bed of his patient. All that night Stephen lay as still as a corpse.

It was towards morning when he moved and showed signs of returning consciousness. Herrick was assiduous in his attendance, and success crowned his efforts. Gradually Stephen came to himself, with a dull pain in his head, weak, but quite himself. "Where--where am I?" were his first stammering words.

"In your own house," said Herrick quickly, "don't talk my dear chap; you have had an accident."

"I remember," muttered Stephen, "at the vault, a blow,--yes, and--"

"Be quiet," said Herrick sternly, "you must not talk I tell you!" And after another attempt Stephen obeyed. Shortly he fell asleep. Herrick drew a long breath. The worst was over. For once the villany of Frisco had failed in its object.

Several people called that morning, amongst others Mr. Corn. The clergyman did not look well, and hurriedly asked after the sufferer. "I hope he is better," he said, "a terrible affair Dr. Herrick!"

"A cowardly crime!" said Herrick sharply. "However we can talk of that when Marsh gets better. Meantime Mr. Corn, will you tell me if Don Manuel was at your house last night?"

"Dear me, yes," replied Corn surprised. "He came to dinner, and stayed with me up till midnight. I was walking with him to the Carr Arms, when we met the Miss Endicottes who told us of this terrible business. Why do you ask me the question Dr. Herrick?"

"I have no special reason," replied Herrick mendaciously, "save that being in a sense responsible for the visit of Santiago to this place, I wish to warn you that I know nothing about him."

"Have you anything to say against his character?" asked the rector sharply.

"No! I know nothing about him. All I can say is that I do not like the man, and I think he is a bad lot. If you like to tell him this Mr. Corn you are at liberty to do so."

"I am not the man to make mischief," said Corn hotly, "so far as I can see Don Manuel appears to me to be perfectly respectable. If he is not, I can look after myself Dr. Herrick."

"I beg your pardon," said Herrick ceremoniously, "I did not wish to infer that you could not. All I have to say is that Mr. Marsh is better, and that in a week he will be about."

Pentland Corn murmured something about being pleased, and took his departure. Herrick did not quite know what to make of the rector. He was a good preacher, a kind-hearted man, and in his own way, clever. But he seemed to be weak, and usually had a haggard look on his face for which there was no apparent reason. Sometimes he went away to the sea-side for his health and invariably returned looking worse than ever. Altogether the man was a mystery, and Herrick could not make out what was at the back of his timidity, and his restless behaviour. "I seem to be surrounded with mysteries," said Herrick to himself. "I wonder if I shall ever get to the bottom of any one of them. If I do, the rest will easily be unravelled. I suspect the whole lot are of a piece."

Ida came that morning, and Bess. This latter young lady waited in the library while Herrick took up Ida to the room of Stephen. She had insisted upon going up to watch beside him. "It is my right you know," she said to Dr. Jim, and he silently admitted that it was.

Stephen had just opened his eyes when they entered. He tried to speak, but Ida placed her hand on his mouth and Herrick frowned. Marsh obediently held his tongue, and Ida sat by his bedside. However the patient managed to kiss Ida's hand. Then Herrick went down to see Bess, warning Ida that Stephen was not to speak. Marsh did make another attempt but Miss Endicotte would not allow it. "The doctor says you are to be quiet. If you say a word I shall go away."

"The ring?" murmured Stephen, looking at her.