from finding him?"

"We do not know where he is," replied the vicar, thanking the inspiration
which had prevented him from asking Mrs. Goddard more questions. He had
promised to save Goddard, too, or at least not to facilitate his capture.
But though he was glad to be able to say honestly that he did not know
where he was, he began to doubt whether in the eyes of the law he was
acting rightly.

"You do not know?" asked the squire.

"No; and besides I think--perhaps--we ought to consider poor Mrs.
Goddard's position."

"Mrs. Goddard's position!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon almost angrily. "And who
should consider her position more than I, Mr. Ambrose? My dear sir, I
consider her position before all things--of course I do. But nothing
could be of greater advantage to her position than the certainty that her
husband is safely lodged in prison. I cannot imagine how he contrived
to escape--can you?"

"No, I cannot," answered Mr. Ambrose, thrusting his hands into his
pockets and biting his long upper lip.

"By the bye, did the fellow happen to say why he meant to lay violent
hands on me?" inquired Mr. Juxon.

"Since you ask--he did. It appears that he saw you going into the
cottage, and immediately became jealous--"

"Of me?" Mr. Juxon coloured a little beneath his bronzed complexion, and
grew more angry. "Well, upon my word! But if that is true I am much
obliged for your warning. Fellows of that sort never reason--he will very
likely attack me as you say. It will be quite the last time he attacks
anybody--the devil shall have his own, Mr. Ambrose, if I can help him to
it--"

"Dear me! Mr. Juxon--you surprise me," said the vicar, who had never
heard his friend use such strong language before.

"It is enough to surprise anybody," remarked the squire. "I trust we
shall surprise Mr. Goddard before night. Excuse me, but when did he
express his amiable intentions towards me?"

"Last night, I believe," replied Mr. Ambrose, reluctantly.

"And when did he see me going into the cottage?"

"Yesterday afternoon, I believe." The vicar felt as though he were
beginning to break his promise of shielding the fugitive, but he could
not refuse to answer a direct question.

"Then, when he saw me, he was either in the cottage or in the park. There
was no one in the road, I am quite sure."

"I do not know," said the vicar, delighted at being able to say so. He
was such a simple man that Mr. Juxon noticed the tone of relief in which
he