“Poh, poh,” said Tom, “don’t take on so, man—­forget and forgive—­luck’s been on his side, that’s all.”

“I tell you what,” said Basset, “who do you think struck me the other night?”

“Why, what could it be but Lanfear’s ghost?”

“Don’t talk to me about sperits; whose afraid o’ them?  But tell us one thing, did you see Holden when you looked into the window!”

“What makes you ask?” said the cautious Tom, “supposing I did, or supposing I didn’t?”

“’Cause I know you didn’t.  Now it’s my opinion,” said Basset, lowering his voice and looking round suspiciously as if he were afraid of an action for slander should he be overheard, “that Holden himself made the assault.”

“That ain’t possible,” said Gladding, confidently.  “You and Prime stood by the door and would ha’ seen him if he’d come out there, and I know he didn’t jump out o’ the window, for I should ha’ seen him.”

“But, perhaps he wasn’t in the house at all,” persisted Basset; “it was plaguy dark, and perhaps he heard us coming and hid himself outside on purpose to play the trick and take an unfair advantage on us.”

“You’ll never make me believe that story,” said Gladding, shaking his head.  “I’d as soon believe it was me as the old man.  Prime and me are of the same opinion, and we should both be witnesses agin you.”

The two, at this stage of the conversation, reached the door of the grocer’s shop, into which we will not follow them, but turn our attention elsewhere.

Meanwhile, the cause of all this excitement was quietly pursuing the ordinary tenor of his life.  It will have been observed that when Basset attempted to arrest him, Holden did not even inquire with what offence he was charged, unless demanding the production of the warrant may be considered so, and that upon the constable relinquishing his purpose, he turned away without giving any attention to the observations addressed to him.  It is not probable that his design was to avoid the service of process, all unconscious as he was of any violation of the laws of the State; and certain it is he made not the slightest difference in his habits.  As before, he pursued his occupation of basket-making at his hut and his recreations of fishing and strolling through the woods, as though no such formidable character as Basset was in existence.  If he did not appear in the village it was an accidental circumstance, it being only at irregular intervals that he ever made his appearance there.  Thus, then, passed a week longer; the petulant constable on the watch, and the steady malignity of Davenport gradually becoming impatient for gratification.  But the little drama had a course of its own to run.