n that quarter, I
suppose?"

"No," Mrs. Porson replied. "The last time I mentioned his name she said:
'My son is a most unfortunate young man, and the subject pains me too
much to discuss. Therefore, if you please, Mrs. Porson, I would rather
leave it alone.' So I am afraid there is no chance of my making any
progress there."

CHAPTER XIX: THE ATTACK ON CARTWRIGHT'S MILL

Ned still slept at the mill. He was sure that there was no chance of a
renewal of the attack by the workpeople near, but an assault might be
again organized by parties from a distance. The murder of Mr. Horsfall
had caused greater vigilance than ever among the military. At some
of the mills the use of the new machinery had been discontinued and
cropping by hand resumed. This was the case at the mills at Ottewells
and Bankbottom, both of which belonged to Messrs. Abraham & John
Horsfall, the father and uncle of the murdered man, and at other mills
in the neighborhood. Mr. Cartwright and some of the other owners still
continued the use of the new machinery. One night Ned had just gone to
bed when he was startled by the ringing of the bell. He leaped from his
bed. He hesitated to go to the window, as it was likely enough that
men might be lying in wait to shoot him when he appeared. Seizing his
pistols, therefore, he hurried down below. A continued knocking was
going on at the front entrance. It was not, however, the noisy din which
would be made by a party trying to force their way in, but rather the
persistent call of one trying to attract attention.

"Who is there?" he shouted through the door; "and what do you want?"

"Open the door, please. It is I, Polly Powlett," a voice replied. "I
want to speak to you particularly, sir.

"I have come down, sir," she said as Ned threw open the door and she
entered, still panting from her long run, "to tell you that Cartwright's
mill is going to be attacked. I think some of the Varley men are
concerned in it. Anyhow, the news has got about in the village. Feyther
and Bill are both watched, and could not get away to give you the news;
but feyther told me, and I slipped out at the back door and made my way
round by the moor, for they have got a guard on the road to prevent any
one passing. There is no time to spare, for they were to join a party
from Longroyd Bridge, at ten o'clock at the steeple in Sir George
Armitage's fields, which ain't more than three miles from the mill.
It's half past ten now, b