That he would be justified in using any means in his power to catch the criminal seemed certain. It would be for the public good that he should be delivered up to justice as soon as possible. So long as Goddard was at large the squire's own life was not safe, and Mrs. Goddard was liable to all kinds of annoyances at any moment. There was every reason why the fellow should be captured. But to capture him, safe and sound, was one thing; to expose him to the jaws of Stamboul was quite another. Mr. Juxon had a lively recollection of the day in the Belgrade forest when the great hound had pulled down one of his assailants, making his fangs meet through flesh and bone. If Stamboul were set upon Goddard's track, the convict could hardly escape with his life. In the first flush of the squire's anger this seemed of little importance. But on mature reflection the thing appeared in a different light. He loved Mrs. Goddard in his own way, which was a very honourable way, if not very passionate. He had asked her to marry him. She had expressed a wish that she were a widow, implying perhaps that if she had been free she would have accepted him. If the obstacle of her living husband were removed, it was not improbable that she would look favourably upon the squire's suit; to bring Goddard to an untimely end would undoubtedly be to clear the way for the squire. It was not then, a legitimate desire for justice which made him wish to catch the convict and almost to wish that Stamboul might worry him to death; it was the secret hope that Goddard might be killed and that he, Charles James Juxon, might have the chance to marry his widow. "In other words," he said to himself, "I really want to murder Goddard and take his wife." It was not easy to see where legitimate severity ended and unlawful and murderous selfishness began. The temptation was a terrible one. The very uncertainty which there was, tempted the squire to disregard the possibility of Goddard's death as compared with the importance of his capture. It was quite likely, he unconsciously argued, that the bloodhound would not kill him after all; it was even possible that he might not find him; but it would be worth while to make the attempt, for the results to be obtained by catching the fugitive were very great--Mrs. Goddard's peace was to be considered before all things. But still before the squire's eyes arose the picture of Stamboul tearing the throat of the man he had killed in the Belgrade forest. If he killed the felon, Juxon would know that to all intents and purposes he had himself done the deed in order to marry Mrs. Goddard. But still the thought remained with him and would not leave him.