"Juss so, sir. But the circumstances wasn't communicated to us, sir; so we don't know."
Mr. Gall paused, and the squire smoothed his hair a little.
"Well, Gall," said Mr. Juxon, "have you any reason for believing that this escaped convict is likely to come this way?"
"Well sir, there is some evidence," answered the policeman, mysteriously.
"Leastways what seems like evidence to me, sir."
"Of what kind?" the squire fixed his quiet eyes on Mr. Gall's face.
"His name, sir. The name of the convict. There is a party of that name residin' here."
The squire suddenly guessed what was coming, or at least a possibility of it crossed his mind. If Mr. Gall had been a more observant man he would have seen that Mr. Juxon grew a shade paler and changed one leg over the other as he sat. But in that moment he had time to nerve himself for the worst.
"And what is the name, if you please?" he asked calmly.
"The name in the general orders is Goddard, sir—Walter Goddard. He was convicted of forgery three years ago, sir, a regular bad lot. But discretion is recommended in the orders, sir, as the business is not wanted to get into the papers."
The squire was ready. If Gall did not know that Mary Goddard was the wife of the convict Walter, he should certainly not find it out. In any other country of Europe that would have been the first fact communicated to the local police. Very likely, thought Mr. Juxon, nobody knew it.