“A bagman!  Lor, Sol, what could you ha’ been thinking about?” laughed Trevethick, grimly.  “Why, this here gentleman has been stopping at Crompton with the Squire!  But you mustn’t mind Sol, Sir; his mind ain’t free just Well, Harry, lass, why don’t you get up and shake hands with the gentleman?”

“I have seen this young lady before, also,” explained Richard.  “It was she who was good enough to get me the key of the castle, which I have just returned, by-the-by, to your father,” he added.

Harry gave him a look which showed him that his second pilgrimage up the rock was not unappreciated.

“Did you see the chapel, Sir, and the tombs?” inquired she.

“I hardly know, indeed,” said Richard.  “It was the climb itself that I enjoyed the most, and shall never forget as long as I live.”

“Oh, but you must go properly over our ruins, young gentleman,” said Trevethick, with the air of a proprietor.  “My girl here, or Solomon, must show you them to-morrow, for they need a bit of explanation.  Sol knows all about them.  Don’t you, Sol?”

“Oh yes; I know,” answered Solomon, doggedly; “but nobody won’t go up to the castle to-morrow, I reckon, with this sou’wester a-blowing.”

“It is a wild night, indeed,” said Richard, putting aside the curtain, and looking out through the shutterless window.  “The clouds are driving by at a frightful speed.”

“Ay, and it ain’t only the clouds,” said Trevethick, filling his pipe, and speaking with great gravity; “the Flying Dutchman was seen off the point not two hours ago.”

“By old Madge, I suppose?” observed Solomon, derisively.

“Yes, by old Madge,” retorted the landlord, sturdily.  “She as knew our life-boat was lost last year with all hands long before she drove into Turlock Bay, bottom upward.”

“But how was that?” inquired Richard, with interest.

“Well, Sir, it was this way,” said Trevethick.  “It was a stormy night, though not so bad a one as this is like to be, and the life-boat had gone out to a disabled Indiaman.  She had been away three hours or more, when, as I was sitting in this very parlor, in came Madge, looking scared enough.  She had been to Turlock on an errand for me.  So, ’Sit down,’ says I, ’and take a glass, for you look as though the wind had blown your wits away, old woman.’  ‘Tain’t that, John Trevethick,’ says she; ’but I’m near frightened to death.  I’ve seen a sight as I shall never forget to my dying day.  I have just seen our life-boat men—­all nine of ’em.  The Lord have mercy on their souls!’ ‘Well, why not?’ says I.  ‘Why shouldn’t you ha’ seen ’em?  They’ve got back sooner than we hoped for—­that’s all.’  ‘Nay,’ said she; ’but I met ’em coming out of Gethin—­away from home—­the home they will never see again—­all wet and white like corpses.  They’re drowned men, as sure as you stand there, John Trevethick.’  And so it turned out, poor fellows!”