“Fifteen years ago—in a Mexican gold-mine. That’s why he has been a hermit ever since. He shaved off his beard and kept away from people out there on the marshes so he wouldn’t be recognized. But last week, it seems these new-fangled policemen came to Town; and they heard there was a strange man who kept to himself all alone in a shack on the fen. And they got suspicious. For a long time people had been hunting all over the world for the man that did that killing in the Mexican gold-mine fifteen years ago. So these policemen went out to the shack, and they recognized Luke by a mole on his arm. And they took him to prison.” “Well, well!” murmured the Doctor. “Who would have thought it?—Luke, the philosopher!—Killed a man!—I can hardly believe it.” “It’s true enough—unfortunately,” said Jip. “Luke did it. But it wasn’t his fault. Bob says so. And he was there and saw it all. He was scarcely more than a puppy at the time. Bob says Luke couldn’t help it. He _had_ to do it.” “Where is Bob now?” asked the Doctor. “Down at the prison. I wanted him to come with me here to see you; but he won’t leave the prison while Luke is there. He just sits outside the door of the prison-cell and won’t move. He doesn’t even eat the food they give him. Won’t you please come down there, Doctor, and see if there is anything you can do? The trial is to be this afternoon at two o’clock. What time is it now?” “It’s ten minutes past one.” “Bob says he thinks they are going to kill Luke for a punishment if they can prove that he did it—or certainly keep him in prison for the rest of his life. Won’t you please come? Perhaps if you spoke to the judge and told him what a good man Luke really is they’d let him off.” “Of course I’ll come,” said the Doctor getting up and moving to go. “But I’m very much afraid that I shan’t be of any real help.” He turned at the door and hesitated thoughtfully. “And yet—I wonder—” Then he opened the door and passed out with Jip and me close at his heels. _THE FOURTH CHAPTER_ BOB DAB-DAB was terribly upset when she found we were going away again without luncheon; and she made us take some cold pork-pies in our pockets to eat on the way. When we got to Puddleby Court-house (it was next door to the prison), we found a great crowd gathered around the building. This was the week of the Assizes—a business which happened every three months, when many pick-pockets and other bad characters were tried by a very grand judge who came all the way from London. And anybody in Puddleby who had nothing special to do used to come to the Court-house to hear the trials.