to Mary's house by the vicar. The tortuous
intelligences of bad men easily impute to others courses which they
themselves would naturally pursue. Three words on the previous evening
had sufficed to rouse the convict's jealousy. What he saw to-day
confirmed his suspicions. The gentleman in knickerbockers could be no
other than the squire himself, of course. He was evidently in the habit
of visiting Mary Goddard and he did not wish his visits to be observed by
the clergyman, who was of course the vicar or rector of the parish. That
proved conclusively in the fugitive's mind that there was something
wrong. He ground his teeth together and said to himself that it would be
worth while to run some risk in order to stop that little game, as he
expressed it. He had, as he himself had confessed to his wife, murdered
one man in escaping; a man, he reflected, could only hang once, and if he
had not been taken in the streets of London he was not likely to be
caught in the high street of Billingsfield, Essex. It would be a great
satisfaction to knock the squire on the head before he went any farther.
Moreover he had found a wonderfully safe retreat in the disused vault at
the back of the church. He discovered loose stones inside the place which
he could pile up against the low hole which served for an entrance.
Probably no one knew that there was any entrance at all--the very
existence of the vault was most likely forgotten. It was not a cheerful
place, but Goddard's nerves were excited to a pitch far beyond the reach
of supernatural fears. Whatever he might be condemned to feel in the
future, his conscience troubled him very little in the present. The vault
was comparatively dry and was in every way preferable, as a resting-place
for one night, to the interior of a mouldy haystack in the open fields.
He did not dare show himself again at the "Feathers" inn, lest he should
be held to do the day's work he had promised in payment for his night in
the barn. All that morning and afternoon he had lain hidden in the
quickset hedge near the park gate, within sight of the cottage, and he
had been rewarded. The food he had taken with him the night before had
sufficed him and he had quenched his thirst with rain-water from the
ditch. Having seen that the squire went back towards the Hall, Goddard
slunk away to his hiding-place to wait for the night. He lay down as best
he might, and listened for the hours and half-hours as the church clock
toll