't know: and I've
yet to discover that 'tis any business of ours. All I care to hear
about it is that Mr. Plinlimmon means to tell his wife, for which I
commend him. Now you don't propose to make out a warrant against
_him_, I take it? As for the boy, he's done us more services
to-night than we can count on our fingers. He's saved more than one,
and more than two, of us here, let alone five couples married by
Whitmore in the four months he was curate. Reckon them in, please,
and their children to come. Ah, my dear," she laid a hand on
Isabel's shoulder. "I know what I'm speaking of! He has ended a
scandal for the Rector, and in time for the mischief to be repaired.
He has even saved that dirty scoundrel there, if it helps a man on
Judgment Day that his villainies have miscarried. Well then, what
about the boy? There's a hue-and-cry after him; but you can't give
him up. Let alone the manner of your meeting him--that business of
the bonfire--and a pretty tale 'twould make against a Justice of the
Peace--"

"I never gave that a thought, Lydia," Mr. Rogers protested.

"I know you didn't, my lad: that's why I mentioned it. Well, letting
that alone, how are you to give the child up? You can't. You know
you can't. We've to hide him now, though it cost your commission.
Eh? to be sure we must. Give him up? Pretty gratitude indeed, and
what next, I wonder!"

"I never thought of giving him up."

"I know you didn't, again: but I'm combing out your brains for you,
if you'll only stand quiet and not interrupt. Keep your mind fixed
on Whitmore. Whitmore's your man. If Hodgson catches him--"

"If Hodgson catches him, he'll be charged with the murder. I've the
warrant in my pocket. Then how are we to hide the boy, or keep any
silence on what has happened here to-night?"

"Ye dunderhead!" Miss Belcher stamped her foot. "What in the name of
fortune have we to do with the murder? If Hodgson catches him, he'll
be charged with forging the Bishop of Exeter's licence: that's to say
with a crime he's already confessed to you. If you want to hang him,
that'll do it. You don't want to hang him twice over, do you? And I
don't reckon he'll be so anxious to be hanged twice that he'll
confess to a murder for the fun of the thing. If you say nothing,
he'll say nothing. Upon my word you seem to have that Jew on the
brain! Who made out the warrant?"

"I, of course."

"Then keep it in your pocket: and when you get