“Yes,” said Beatrice, “it has failed because the boy has taken to wearing shoes, which indeed he would always have to do at school.  His parents, if he has any, would perhaps not speak of his disfigurement, and no one else might know of it, especially if he were a new-comer in the neighbourhood.  It is quite possible that he took off his boots in order to creep up to the window.  And now I will tell you how I should set to work to find him.  I should have every bathing-place in the river running through the town—­there is a river—­carefully watched by detectives.  In this weather” (the autumn was an unusually warm one) “boys of that class often paddle and sometimes bathe.  If they watch close enough, they will probably find a boy with a missing toe joint among the number.”

“What a good idea,” said Geoffrey.  “I will telegraph to the lawyers at once.  I certainly believe that you have got the clue.”

And as it turned out afterwards Beatrice had got it; her suppositions were right in almost every particular.  The boy, who proved to be the son of a pedlar who had recently come into the town, was found wading, and by a clever trick, which need not be detailed, frightened into telling the truth, as he had previously frightened himself into holding his tongue.  He had even, as Beatrice conjectured, taken off his boots to creep up to the window, and as he ran away in his fright, had dropped them into a ditch full of water.  There they were found, and went far to convince the jury of the truth of his story.  Thus it was that Beatrice’s quick wit laid the foundations of Geoffrey’s great success.

This particular Monday was a field day at the Vicarage.  Jones had proved obdurate; no power on earth could induce him to pay the L34 11s. 4d. due on account of tithe.  Therefore Mr. Granger, fortified by a judgment duly obtained, had announced his intention of distraining upon Jones’s hay and cattle.  Jones had replied with insolent defiance.  If any bailiff, or auctioneer, or such people came to sell his hay he would kill him, or them.

So said Jones, and summoned his supporters, many of whom owed tithe, and none of whom wished to pay it, to do battle in his cause.  For his part, Mr. Granger retained an auctioneer of undoubted courage who was to arrive on this very afternoon, supported by six policemen, and carry out the sale.  Beatrice felt nervous about the whole thing, but Elizabeth was very determined, and the old clergyman was now bombastic and now despondent.  The auctioneer arrived duly by the one o’clock train.  He was a tall able-bodied man, not unlike Geoffrey in appearance, indeed at twenty yards distance it would have been difficult to tell them apart.  The sale was fixed for half-past two, and Mr. Johnson—­that was the auctioneer’s name—­went to the inn to get his dinner before proceeding to business.  He was informed of the hostile demonstration which awaited him, and that an English member of Parliament had been sent down especially to head the mob, but being a man of mettle pooh-poohed the whole affair.