to answer that question, for a
terrible light was breaking in upon him. "A Frenchman?" he called
out. "And for these twenty-four hours he's been marking out the
river and taking soundings!" He glared at Arch'laus Spry, and
Arch'laus dropped the brazen ewer upon the pavement and smote his
forehead. "The Devil," says he, "is among us, having great wrath!"

"And for aught we know," says my grandfather, speaking in a slow and
fearsome whisper, "the French ships may be hanging off the coast
while we'm talking here!"

"You don't mean to tell us," cried Mrs. Polwhele, sitting up stiff in
the pew, "that this man has been mapping out the river under your
very noses!"

"He has, Ma'am. Oh, I see it all! What likelier place could they
choose on the whole coast? And from here to Falmouth what is it but
a step?"

"Let them that be in Judaea flee to the mountains," said Arch'laus
Spry solemn-like.

"And me just home from Plymouth with a fine new roasting-jack!"
chimed in Mrs. Polwhele. "As though the day of wrath weren't bad
enough without that waste o' money! Run, Calvin--run and tell the
Vicar this instant--no, no, don't leave me behind! Take me home,
that's a good man: else I shall faint at my own shadow!"

Well, they hurried off to the Vicarage: but, of course, there was no
Parson to be found, for by this time he was half-way towards Little
Dinnis, and running like a madman under the hot sun to see what
damage had befallen his dearly-loved camp. The servants hadn't seen
him leave the house; ne'er a word could they tell of him except that
Martha, the cook, when she cleared away the breakfast things, had
left him seated in his chair and smoking.

"But what's the meaning of this?" cried out Mrs. Polwhele, pointing
to the tablecloth that Bligh had pulled all awry in his temper.
"And the window open too!"

"And--hallo!" says my grandfather, staring across the patch of turf
outside. "Surely here's signs of a violent struggle. Human, by the
look of it," says he, picking up a thigh-bone and holding it out
towards Mrs. Polwhele.

She began to shake like a leaf. "Oh, Calvin!" she gasps out.
"Oh, Calvin, not in this short time--it couldn't be!"

"Charred, too," says my grandfather, inspecting it: and with that
they turned at a cry from Martha the cook, that was down on hands and
knees upon the carpet.

"Ashes! See here, mistress--ashes all over your best carpet!"

The two women stared at the fireplace: but, of