"And his heart seemed to sink within him like a stone," said Oliver Giles.
"And he bolted as if he'd been shot at," said the hedge-carpenter.
"True—his teeth chattered, and his heart seemed to sink; and he bolted as if he'd been shot at," slowly summed up the man in the chimney-corner.
"I didn't notice it," remarked the grim songster.
"We were all a-wondering what made him run off in such a fright," faltered one of the women against the wall, "and now 'tis explained."
The firing of the alarm-gun went on at intervals, low and sullenly, and their suspicions became a certainty. The sinister gentleman in cinder-grey roused himself. "Is there a constable here?" he asked in thick tones. "If so, let him step forward."
The engaged man of fifty stepped quavering out of the corner, his betrothed beginning to sob on the back of the chair.
"You are a sworn constable?"
"I be, sir."
"Then pursue the criminal at once, with assistance, and bring him back here. He can't have gone far."