But since I caught him, and found him to be
very ill--utterly unable to move, I proposed to take charge of him
myself. Mrs. Goddard is a friend of mine, and of the vicar, who knows her
story perfectly well. To publish the story in the village would be to do
her a great injury. Mrs. Ambrose, the vicar's wife, who is also
acquainted with the circumstances, is at this moment taking care of the
sick man. I presume that my promise--I am a retired officer of the
Navy--and the promise of Mr. Ambrose, the vicar, are sufficient
guarantee--"

"Oh, there is no question of guarantee," said Mr. Booley. "I assure you,
Mr. Juxon, I have no doubt whatever that you have acted for the best.
Can you tell me how long Goddard has been in the neighbourhood?"

The squire told the detective what he knew, taking care not to implicate
Mrs. Goddard, even adding with considerable boldness, for he was not
positively certain of the statement, that neither she nor any one else
had known where the man was hiding. Mr. Booley being sure that Goddard
could not escape him, saw that he could claim the reward offered for the
capture of the convict. He asked whether he might see him.

"That is doubtful," said the squire. "When I left him just now he was
quite unconscious, but he has lucid moments. To frighten him at such a
time might kill him outright."

"It is very easy for me to say that I am another medical man," remarked
Mr. Booley. "Perhaps I might say it in any case, just to keep the
servants quiet. I would like to see Mrs. Goddard, too."

"That is another matter. She is very nervous. I am going to her house,
now, and probably she will come back to the Hall with me. I might perhaps
tell her that you are here, but I think it would be likely to shock her
very much."

"Well, well, we will see about it," answered Mr. Booley. They reached the
house and the squire ushered the detective into the study, begging him to
wait for his return.

It was a new complication, though it had seemed possible enough. But the
position was not pleasant. To feel that there was a detective in the
house waiting to carry off Goddard, so soon as he should be well enough
to be moved, was about as disagreeable as anything well could be. The
longer the squire thought of it, the more impossible and at the same time
unnecessary it seemed to be to inform Mrs. Goddard of Booley's arrival.
He hastened down the park, feeling that no time must be lost in bringing
her to her husband'