The farmer was bewildered――partly dazed by the fearful tale he had been listening to. He turned his eyes towards his sister, who had crept into the room to listen to the appalling narrative. “Did you know of this?” inquired Ashbrook. “I knew a shocking affair of some sort took place at Squire Gordon’s when Jane was there, but I never knew till now its precise nature. I understood that some young man was murdered――that is all. How and by whom I was never told.” “And was the man never discovered? An attempt was made to find him, I s’pose?” asked the farmer of his servant. “Government offered a reward of a hundred pounds; a description of the man was printed on handbills, which were sent, so they said, to every police-station.” “With what result?” “With none, except the arrest of a poor harmless fellow, who never set foot in the squire’s house, and who had no more to do with the crime than you or I have.” “And the handkerchief?” “That I have kept. The knife also with which the murder was committed was picked up on the lawn; that, too, I have preserved. They are both now in the possession of the pleece. Ah! we shall bring it home to the deep-dyed villain. I felt certain that, sooner or later, he would be caught, the murderin’ thief.” “What became of the squire?” “He left England for good, and settled in Brittany. He has a daughter who is married there.” “Is he still alive?” “I believe so. I never heard of his death――oh! I’m pretty sure he’s alive.” “Do you think he could identify the man?” “He told me after his recovery that he saw his features distinctly, and that he would be able to swear to him. It appeared that Gregson was making his escape from the house with the things he had stolen, when he was suddenly and unexpectedly confronted by the squire, who had come over the fields, crossed the lawn, and entered by the back door of his residence.” “We’ve all of us had a narrow escape,” said Maud Ashbrook, “and it will be a warning to us for the future.” “I’m glad Jane shot the fellow down,” observed the farmer. “She’s a true-hearted, brave girl――not, mind ye, but it would ha’ bin better for him to have fallen by the hands of one of us men.” “No, master, no,” cried Jane, in a deprecating tone. “I am the most deeply injured, sick and sore of heart――I who have sworn to devote the remainder of my life to discover the slayer of James Hopgood――I was the most fitting person to hunt him down. It has been done, and he will not escape now.” Jane had given her evidence before the stipendiary magistrates in the clearest and most lucid manner. She swore positively to the prisoner Gregson, whose features she declared had not changed since she saw them so distinctly on that fatal night. Her fellow-servant also identified the prisoner, whom she saw, so she averred, through the back-parlour window at the time Jane had hold of him by the handkerchief.