lly stood some
time at the cottage window on the previous night, he did not doubt for a
moment. The vicar had mentioned the window to him when he told him that
Mrs. Goddard had seen her husband. He had probably been at the window as
late as midnight, and the scent, renewed by his visit, would not be
twelve hours old. Stamboul could find the man, unless he had got into a
cart, which was improbable. But a new and startling consideration
presented itself to the squire's mind when the vicar was gone and his
anger had subsided; a consideration which made him hesitate what course
to pursue.

That he would be justified in using any means in his power to catch the
criminal seemed certain. It would be for the public good that he should
be delivered up to justice as soon as possible. So long as Goddard was at
large the squire's own life was not safe, and Mrs. Goddard was liable to
all kinds of annoyances at any moment. There was every reason why the
fellow should be captured. But to capture him, safe and sound, was one
thing; to expose him to the jaws of Stamboul was quite another. Mr. Juxon
had a lively recollection of the day in the Belgrade forest when the
great hound had pulled down one of his assailants, making his fangs meet
through flesh and bone. If Stamboul were set upon Goddard's track, the
convict could hardly escape with his life. In the first flush of the
squire's anger this seemed of little importance. But on mature reflection
the thing appeared in a different light.

He loved Mrs. Goddard in his own way, which was a very honourable way, if
not very passionate. He had asked her to marry him. She had expressed a
wish that she were a widow, implying perhaps that if she had been free
she would have accepted him. If the obstacle of her living husband were
removed, it was not improbable that she would look favourably upon the
squire's suit; to bring Goddard to an untimely end would undoubtedly be
to clear the way for the squire. It was not then, a legitimate desire for
justice which made him wish to catch the convict and almost to wish that
Stamboul might worry him to death; it was the secret hope that Goddard
might be killed and that he, Charles James Juxon, might have the chance
to marry his widow. "In other words," he said to himself, "I really want
to murder Goddard and take his wife."

It was not easy to see where legitimate severity ended and unlawful and
murderous selfishness began. The temptation was a terrible