Although the day had opened fine and bright, the evening had brought with it an unwelcome change in the weather. A south-westerly gale, blowing straight from the English Channel, swept across the land, accompanied by heavy downpours of rain and hail; while ever and anon vivid flashes of lightning, followed by deafening peals of thunder that shook the house to its foundations, would pierce the darkness of the night.

For more than an hour I remained at my window, watching the flashes play upon the distant trees of the forest, or light up the rolling expanse of gorse-clad heath. So fierce was the wind that the branches of a tree close to my casement were lashed violently against the thatch, while a tall elm at the edge of the lawn had been uprooted, and lay athwart the sodden road.

At length the storm receded, and, tired out, I sought repose.

It must have been some time betwixt midnight and dawn, for 'twas still dark, when I awoke with a start and a vague feeling that something was amiss.

I had, according to custom, left the casement slightly ajar, the frame being secured by an iron quadrant. This contrivance fitted tightly, and 'twould be impossible for it to move of itself; yet I heard the creaking of the metalwork as the casement was slowly and cautiously opened, for the wind had now died utterly away, and all else was still save for the pattering of the water from the eaves.

Overcome by a nameless terror, I lay motionless in my bed, thinking 'twas the Evil One coming in person to bear me bodily away.[1]

Slowly a dark, sinister figure, barely distinguishable against the gloom without, crept silently through the now open window, past the foot of my bed, and out by the unlatched door of the room, smothering as it did so a sneeze.

That sneeze aroused my courage, for never in all the worthy Doctor Colling's discourses had I heard of the Evil One sneezing. The intruder was a robber!

However, I remained silent and motionless till the unwelcome stranger had time to get clear of the room; then, boldly springing out of bed, I crept softly to my father's room.

At the first touch of my hand he was wide-awake, thanks once more to his active life afloat, but had the good sense to refrain from speaking aloud.

In a few words I explained the situation, and without hesitation he sprang from his bed, armed himself with a petronel, and hastened downstairs to surprise and, if possible, capture the intruder, I following closely and silently at his heels.

But in the few minutes of undisturbed action the robber had not been idle, for ere my father gained the lowermost stair he tripped suddenly over a broom handle cunningly placed there for that purpose, and falling headlong, the petronel exploded with a vivid flash and a stunning report, the bullets crashing through the wainscot.

In a moment he was on his feet again, only to meet the robber as he dashed for freedom. In the darkness I heard the sounds of a furious struggle, but, being unable to distinguish friend from foe, I was compelled to stand inactive and useless:

Suddenly there was an exclamation of pain, followed by a heavy thud, and the next instant I was thrust violently against the wall as a powerful, agile figure tore past me and up the staircase.

A terrific crash of broken glass was followed by the shrieks of old Martha and groans in the darkness, while I heard Captain Jeremy rushing from his room, shouting for lights to be brought.

When at length we found tinder and steel and a light was provided, my father was seen lying on his face, bleeding profusely from a wound in the right side.

"Water!" he gasped feebly. "I am done for!" and before we could raise him from the floor he had swooned.

Jeremy, cursing loudly, was at first for pursuing the murderous villain who had dealt the fell blow, but pursuit was not to be thought of when we saw my father's desperate condition. Fearing to carry him upstairs to his own chamber, we lifted him into the dining-room, where we placed his senseless form on a roughly-constructed couch.

Constance had now joined us, and though trembling with fear and anxiety, she alone suggested the wisest course.

"Run, Clifford, for a chirurgeon!" she exclaimed, and, hatless and shoeless, though I had found time to don my clothing, I tore over the sodden fields to the house of Master Blackwood, who lived well on the outskirts of the village.

Seeing the case was urgent, though I could but babble an incoherent summons, the surgeon came quickly; and having made a hasty examination, the grave look on his clear-cut features showed that my sire was in dire peril of death.

Having dressed the wound, Master Blackwood applied himself to restoring his patient to consciousness, and while this was being done my glance fell upon the picture--or, rather, the frame--that my father had bought but a few short hours ago.

The painting was missing, cut from the frame by a sharp knife. Almost at the same time Captain Miles noticed the empty frame, and, in spite of his accustomed coolness, his jaw dropped.

"Alack-a-day! A sorry pass! 'Tis the friar's curse come home," he muttered huskily.

Slowly the pale dawn struggled for the mastery with the feeble flicker of the rushlight till, in a mantle of vivid crimson hue, the sun rose red and angry in the eastern sky.

Then, and only then, could we see the full extent of the mischief that the robber had wrought. That the precious chart had been the object of his entry there could be no doubt, for in the short space of time ere he was disturbed he had made straight for the painting that formerly concealed the parchment.

The shattered broomstick, a dark pool of blood at the foot of the stairs, and the shot-marked wainscot were silent evidences of the tragedy; while I found the hilt of a knife wedged firmly in the wall, close to where I was hurled by the escaping miscreant.

Then I remembered the incident, and to my surprise I found that I had a clean cut in the right shoulder. Though it had bled somewhat, in my excitement I had been unaware of it; yet 'twas a narrow escape.

"There's more behind this affair than we wot of," remarked Captain Jeremy. "The rogue had doubtless watched us through the window whilst your father and I were talking of the matter of the treasure, for I bear to mind the shutters were not drawn. Then, finding that the iron bars across the lower windows prevented him from entering save by much labour and trouble, he scaled the tree without your casement and entered your room. But, Clifford, sorry though I be for your father's plight and sore hurt, 'tis a fortunate thing that the robber was foiled, for, see you, I had the chart with me, placed under my pillow for safety. As for the picture of the old Venture, 'tis of little account, though I did set some store on it for the sake of bygone times."

"But concerning the robber?" I asked. "If we are to inform the watch there will be danger of your discovery, yet I am loath to let the villain go unhindered."

"'Tis a matter that requires much consideration," he replied gravely. "I call to mind when I was on board the barque Furie within sight of Port Royal. A fire broke out for'ard and threatened to consume us; our longboat and shallop were damaged, while alongside were swarms of sharks. As we could not save ourselves by flight, we fought the flames so determinedly that we put out the fire, though it seemed a well-nigh impossible task."

"And what of it?" I asked perplexedly, for I failed to grasp the Captain's meaning.

"You see, Master Clifford, this house, in a manner of speaking, is the burning craft, the King's officers are the sharks; so, until we know your father's pleasure in this business, I would that nothing be said concerning the affair. Master Blackwood I know to be a stanch and upright man who detests the unlawful practices of King James; he will keep silence. Your sister, also, I know to be circumspect; but I have my doubts about Martha, for the tongues of serving women, especially old ones, are apt to wag."

"I am content to let the matter rest for the present," I replied; and crossing the hall, I laid hold of the knife that was still fixed in the wainscot. It took much strength to wrench it free, and no little care, for the broken blade was as sharp as a razor. The steel was about a span in length, and wet for about half that distance with my father's blood. As I cleaned it, my eyes fell upon some letters engraved upon the blade. Worn though the steel was, I deciphered the letters "...emento mori".

"'Tis perchance the name of the cutler," said Captain Miles, taking the steel out of my hand and examining it carefully.

"Nay; 'tis certain you have not noticed similar words in Lymington Church," I replied. "The first letter is on the other portion of the broken blade, and the completed sentence is the Latin for 'Remember you must die'. I'll have a hilt fitted to this portion, Captain Jeremy, and should ill befall my father, the motto will guide me in the tracing of the villain."

"Strange it may be," remarked the Captain reflectively, "but now I recall an old shipmate of mine who bought a dagger in Lisbon with these words. He was, I remember, an ill-favoured creature."

"Was he short in stature, and bull-necked?" I asked eagerly.

"Nay," replied my companion, shaking his head; "you are on the wrong tack. Your father hath told me of the man you have in mind--the one who would have bought the picture, though, sink me! I cannot imagine why he should set such store on it. Nay; the man, though short in stature, was as thin as a handspike. But, my lad," he said kindly, "you look as white as a sheet. Here, take a turn in the garden, for the place smells like a charnel-house. Keep within ear-shot, lest you are wanted."

With a heavy heart I obeyed, having first obtained Constance's aid in applying a bandage to my wounded shoulder.

The damage done by yesternight's gale was enormous, though I paid little heed to the scene of desolation, but, stepping over the broken branches that everywhere littered the ground, walked round to the back of the house, whence the robber had made his escape.

He had left by the same means as he had entered--through the casement of my room and down the tree that unfortunately provided a ready means of descent. Curiosity prompted me to examine the trunk, and on so doing I found traces of blood on the bark. I noticed that, if viewed from the window, the marks of blood were on the right-hand side of the trunk, and, as the fugitive must have descended with his face towards the bark, 'twas evident that he had been wounded on the right side of his person; and by the quantity of the blood it was further evident that the wound was of a severe nature.

Then the thought flashed across my mind: the villain was sore hurt, his track lay fresh upon the grass; why should I not follow him?

Running back to the house, I loaded my fowling-piece, and calling Bruno, my lurcher, I started in pursuit.

[1] Lest Clifford be thought a weak-minded coward, it is well to explain that previous to and during the seventeenth century there was a strong popular belief in the corporal presence of the Evil One. The study of any contemporary writer will confirm this. A notable example is afforded by the panic of Robinson Crusoe on discovering a dying goat in the darkness of a cave: "I saw two broad shining eyes of some creature, whether devil or man I knew not".