ose, that the Vicar
had found it to be almost absolutely necessary to leave him alone as
far as ordinary life was concerned. But now the Squire was himself
again, and on this exciting topic of Trumbull's murder, the prisoners
in Salisbury gaol, and the necessity for Sam's reappearance, could
talk sensibly and usefully.

It was certainly very expedient that Sam should be made to reappear
as soon as possible. The idea was general in the parish that the
Vicar knew all about him. George Brattle, who had become bail for his
brother's reappearance, had given his name on the clear understanding
that the Vicar would be responsible. Some half-sustained tidings of
Carry's presence in Salisbury and of the Vicar's various visits to
the city were current in Bullhampton, and with these were mingled an
idea that Carry and Sam were in league together. That Fenwick was
chivalrous, perhaps Quixotic, in his friendships for those whom he
regarded, had long been felt, and this feeling was now stronger than
ever. He certainly could bring up Sam Brattle if he pleased;--or, if
he pleased, as might, some said, not improbably be the case, he could
keep him away. There would be L400 to pay for the bail-bond, but the
Vicar was known to be rich as well as Quixotic, and,--so said the
Puddlehamites,--would care very little about that, if he might thus
secure for himself his own way.

He was constrained to go over again to Salisbury in order that he
might, if possible, learn from Carry how to find some trace to
her brother, and of this visit the Puddlehamites also informed
themselves. There were men and women in Bullhampton who knew exactly
how often the Vicar had visited the young woman at Salisbury, how
long he had been with her on each occasion, and how much he paid Mrs.
Stiggs for the accommodation. Gentlemen who are Quixotic in their
kindness to young women are liable to have their goings and comings
chronicled with much exactitude, if not always with accuracy.

His interview with Carry on this occasion was very sad. He could not
save himself from telling her in part the cause of his inquiries.
"They haven't taken the two men, have they?" she asked, with an
eagerness that seemed to imply that she possessed knowledge on the
matter which could hardly not be guilty.

"What two men?" he asked, looking full into her face. Then she was
silent and he was unwilling to catch her in a trap, to cross-examine
her as a lawyer would do, or to press out of