"What is it?" he said sharply.
"I daresay you do not know that I am acquainted with her story," began
Mr. Juxon. "Do not be surprised. She saw fit to tell it me herself."
"Indeed?" exclaimed the vicar in considerable astonishment. In that case, he argued quickly, Mr. Juxon was not thinking of marrying her.
"Yes—it is not necessary to go into that," said Mr. Juxon quickly. "The thing I want to tell you is this—Goddard the forger has escaped—"
"Escaped?" echoed the vicar in real alarm. "You don't mean to say so!"
"Gall the constable came here this morning," continued Mr. Juxon. "He told me that there were general orders out for his arrest."
"How in the world did he get out?" cried the vicar. "I thought nobody was ever known to escape from Portland!"
"So did I. But this fellow has—somehow. Gall did not know. Now, the question is, what is to be done?"
"I am sure I don't know," returned the vicar, thrusting his hands into his pockets and marching to the window, the wide skirts of his coat seeming to wave with agitation as he walked.
Mr. Juxon also put his hands into his pockets, but he stood still upon the hearth-rug and looked at the ceiling, softly whistling a little tune, a habit he had in moments of great anxiety. For three or four minutes neither of the two spoke.