ing from
the open door, a sound of men's voices within, proclaimed to them as they
approached the house that some new events had arisen in their absence. On
entering they discovered the shepherd's living room to be invaded by two
officers from Casterbridge jail, and a well-known magistrate who lived at
the nearest country-seat, intelligence of the escape having become
generally circulated.

'Gentlemen,' said the constable, 'I have brought back your man--not
without risk and danger; but every one must do his duty! He is inside
this circle of able-bodied persons, who have lent me useful aid,
considering their ignorance of Crown work. Men, bring forward your
prisoner!' And the third stranger was led to the light.

'Who is this?' said one of the officials.

'The man,' said the constable.

'Certainly not,' said the turnkey; and the first corroborated his
statement.

'But how can it be otherwise?' asked the constable. 'Or why was he so
terrified at sight o' the singing instrument of the law who sat there?'
Here he related the strange behaviour of the third stranger on entering
the house during the hangman's song.

'Can't understand it,' said the officer coolly. 'All I know is that it
is not the condemned man. He's quite a different character from this
one; a gauntish fellow, with dark hair and eyes, rather good-looking, and
with a musical bass voice that if you heard it once you'd never mistake
as long as you lived.'

'Why, souls--'twas the man in the chimney-corner!'

'Hey--what?' said the magistrate, coming forward after inquiring
particulars from the shepherd in the background. 'Haven't you got the
man after all?'

'Well, sir,' said the constable, 'he's the man we were in search of,
that's true; and yet he's not the man we were in search of. For the man
we were in search of was not the man we wanted, sir, if you understand my
everyday way; for 'twas the man in the chimney-corner!'

'A pretty kettle of fish altogether!' said the magistrate. 'You had
better start for the other man at once.'

The prisoner now spoke for the first time. The mention of the man in the
chimney-corner seemed to have moved him as nothing else could do. 'Sir,'
he said, stepping forward to the magistrate, 'take no more trouble about
me. The time is come when I may as well speak. I have done nothing; my
crime is that the condemned man is my brother. Early this afternoon I
left home at Shottsford to tramp it all the way to C