“I do not see,” he said very slowly, “that the fact of there being a Mrs. Goddard residing here in the least proves that she is any relation to this criminal.  The name is not so uncommon as that, you know.”

“Nor I either, sir.  In point of fact, sir, I was only thinking.  It’s what you may call a striking coincidence, that’s all.”

“It would have been a still more striking coincidence if his name had been Juxon like mine, or Ambrose like the vicar’s,” said the squire calmly.  “There are other people of the name in England, and the local policemen will be warned to be on the lookout.  If this fellow was called Juxon instead of Goddard, Gall, would you be inclined to think he was a relation of mine?”

“Oh no, sir.  Ha! ha!  Very good sir!  Very good indeed!  No indeed, sir, and she such a real lady too!”

“Well then, I do not see that you can do anything more than keep a sharp look-out.  I suppose they sent you some kind of description?”

“Well, yes.  There was a kind of a description as you say, sir, but I’m not anyways sure of recognising the party by it.  In point of fact, sir, the description says the convict is a fair man.”

“Is that all?”

“Neither particular tall, nor yet particular short, sir.  Not a very big ’un nor a very little ’un, sir.  In point of fact, sir, a fair man.  Clean shaved and close cropped he is, sir, being a criminal.”

“I hope you may recognise him by that account,” said the squire, suppressing a smile.  “I don’t believe I should.”

“Well, sir, it does say as he’s a fair man,” remarked the constable.

“Supposing he blacked his face and passed for a chimney-sweep?” suggested the squire.  The idea seemed to unsettle Gall’s views.

“In that case, sir, I don’t know as I should know him, for certain,” he answered.

“Probably not—­probably not, Gall.  And judging from the account they have sent you I don’t think you would be to blame.”

“Leastways it can’t be said as I’ve failed to carry out superior instructions,” replied Mr. Gall, proudly.  “Then it’s your opinion, sir, that I’d better keep a sharp look-out?  Did I understand you to say so, sir?”

“Quite so,” returned the squire with great calmness.  “By all means keep a sharp look-out, and be careful to be discreet, as the orders instruct you.”

“You may trust me for that, sir,” said the policeman, who dearly loved the idea of mysterious importance.  “Then I wish you good morning, sir.”  He prepared to go.

“Good morning, Gall—­good morning.  The butler will give you some ale.”