“That I have kept. The knife also with which the murder was committed was picked up on the lawn; that, too, I have preserved. They are both now in the possession of the pleece. Ah! we shall bring it home to the deep-dyed villain. I felt certain that, sooner or later, he would be caught, the murderin’ thief.”
“What became of the squire?”
“He left England for good, and settled in Brittany. He has a daughter who is married there.”
“Is he still alive?”
“I believe so. I never heard of his death—oh! I’m pretty sure he’s alive.”
“Do you think he could identify the man?”
“He told me after his recovery that he saw his features distinctly, and that he would be able to swear to him. It appeared that Gregson was making his escape from the house with the things he had stolen, when he was suddenly and unexpectedly confronted by the squire, who had come over the fields, crossed the lawn, and entered by the back door of his residence.”
“We’ve all of us had a narrow escape,” said Maud Ashbrook, “and it will be a warning to us for the future.”
“I’m glad Jane shot the fellow down,” observed the farmer. “She’s a true-hearted, brave girl—not, mind ye, but it would ha’ bin better for him to have fallen by the hands of one of us men.”
“No, master, no,” cried Jane, in a deprecating tone. “I am the most deeply injured, sick and sore of heart—I who have sworn to devote the remainder of my life to discover the slayer of James Hopgood—I was the most fitting person to hunt him down. It has been done, and he will not escape now.”