"I'll ride too," and Dominic slammed the door, and hurried to the back of the house where his horses were stabled for the night. He chose out a fleet white one that was used to wild rushes through the dark. Before he mounted, he fastened a pistol to the saddle; but he laughed as he did this, it was such a useless precaution. Never once yet had the excisemen appeared within miles of the Haunted House. With a dark lantern swinging from the saddle bow, he rode out of the farmyard and cantered up the hill. Then, urging the white mare to her swiftest pace, he flew through steep lanes, past Torteval Church, and along the high road to Pleinmont.
The rain poured in torrents. The wind roared and howled. Several times the mare paused, trembling. But Dominic lashed her on, and in pain and terror she tore across the moorland, striking fire from the stones as she flew. He reined her in at last and fastened her to a hook in the side wall of the Haunted House. He laughed as he thought what a help she would be in keeping all comers away, for she seemed to shed a white dim light from her drenched skin, and her loud breathing might easily be taken for groans.
He scrambled down the face of the cliff. Fortunately, the wind blew in from the sea, and in safety he reached a large cave, brilliant with the light of many torches. His boon companions, the roughest gangs of the two parishes, greeted him with shouts and jests, and an hour of drinking and feasting followed. Then, with no little difficulty, kegs of brandy were hauled up the cliffs and deposited in the Haunted House. With wonderful skill, the men worked almost all the while in the dark, only using lanterns when it was absolutely necessary. At last, all the kegs were stowed away. The men scattered to fetch their horses from various sheds belonging to friendly people, and the master of Orvillière was left alone.
He looked carefully round at the precious kegs stowed half way up the walls. Ah--what was that! One of the barrels leaked! Brandy, velvety fragrant brandy was oozing out on the earthen floor! He knelt down and caught a few drops in his hand. It was superfine, the best stuff he had ever tasted. Greedily he drank again and again from his hand. But that process was too slow. Catching up a hatchet, he enlarged the leak, and throwing himself flat on the ground, he lapped the golden spirit that filled him with ecstasy. At last, he had had enough. He fumbled at the leak, making futile efforts to stop it. But he was too drunk to know what he was about. He had just sense enough to darken his lantern, to reel out of the Haunted House and fling himself on the drenched grass beside his shivering mare. Presently his debauch turned into a heavy sleep, and the hours passed. Suddenly he woke and sat up. He heard, quite distinctly, the sharp click of a horse's hoof. It had rung through his drunken sleep like a knell. He had dreamt he heard again the passing bell that had tolled for Blaisette.