"I daresay we do," said the vicar with a smile. He was too honest to deny it. "Indeed it took me some time to get used to the idea myself." "Precisely. The village people would never get used to it. Of all things to do, we should certainly not tell Gall, who is an old woman and a great chatterbox. I wish you could have heard his statement this morning--it filled me with admiration for the local police, I assure you. But--I think it would be better to tell her. I did not think so before you came, I believe. But talking always brings the truth out." The vicar hesitated, rising and falling upon his toes and heels in profound thought, after his manner. "I daresay you are right," he said at last. "Will you do it? Or shall I?" "I would rather not," said the squire, thoughtfully. "You know her better, you have known her much longer than I." "But she will ask me where I heard of it," objected the vicar. "I shall be obliged to say that you told me. That will be as bad as though you told her yourself." "You need not say you heard it from me. You can say that Gall has received instructions to look out for Goddard. She will not question you any further, I am sure." "I would much rather that you told her, Mr. Juxon," said the vicar. "I would much rather that you told her, Mr. Ambrose," said the squire, almost in the same breath. Both laughed a little. "Not that I would not do it at once, if necessary," added Mr. Juxon. "Or I, in a moment," said Mr. Ambrose. "Of course," returned Mr. Juxon. "Only it is such a very delicate matter, you see." "Dear me, yes," murmured the vicar, "a most delicate matter. Poor lady!" "Poor lady!" echoed the squire. "But I suppose it must be done." "Oh yes--we cannot do otherwise," answered Mr. Ambrose, still hoping that his companion would volunteer to perform the disagreeable office. "Well then, will you--will you do it?" asked Mr. Juxon, anxious to have the matter decided. "Why not go together?" suggested the vicar. "No," said Mr. Juxon firmly. "It would be an intolerable ordeal for the poor woman. I think I see your objection. Perhaps you think that Mrs. Ambrose--" "Exactly, Mrs. Ambrose," echoed the vicar with a grim smile. "Oh precisely--then I will do it," said the squire. And he forthwith did, and was very much surprised at the result. CHAPTER XV. It was late in the afternoon when Mr. Juxon walked down towards the cottage, accompanied by the vicar. In spite of their mutual anxiety to be of service to Mrs. Goddard, when they had once decided how to act they had easily fallen into conversation about other matters, the black letter Paracelsus had received its full share of attention and many another rare volume had been brought out and examined. Neither the vicar nor his host believed that there was any hurry; if Goddard ever succeeded in getting to Billingsfield it would not be to-day, nor to-morrow either.