"Would you tell Mrs. Goddard—or not?" asked Mr. Juxon at last.
"I don't know," said the vicar. "I am amazed beyond measure." He turned and slowly came back to the table.
"I don't know either," replied the squire. "That is precisely the point upon which I think we ought to decide. I have known about the story for some time, but I did not anticipate that it would take this turn."
"I think," said Mr. Ambrose after another pause, "I think that if there is any likelihood of the fellow finding her out, we ought to tell her. If not I think we had better wait until he is caught. He is sure to be caught, of course."
"I entirely agree with you," returned Mr. Juxon. "Only—how on earth are we to find out whether he is likely to come here or not? If any one knows where he is, he is as good as caught already. If nobody knows, we can certainly have no means of telling."
The argument was unanswerable. Again there was a long silence. The vicar walked about the room in great perplexity.
"Dear me! Dear me! What a terrible business!" he repeated, over and over again.
"Do you think we are called upon to do anything?" he asked at last, stopping in his walk immediately in front of Mr. Juxon.
"If we can do anything to save Mrs. Goddard from annoyance or further trouble, we are undoubtedly called upon to do it," replied the squire. "If that wretch finds her out, he will try to break into the cottage at night and force her to give him money."
"Do you really think so? Dear me! I hope he will do no such thing!"