Mr. Dumps--whose clearness of vision was certainly not sufficient to set the Thames on fire--received the news without any doubt. "I thought it an odd thing for Jim Sanders to do. He haven't daring enough," he remarked. "That kitchenmaid was right, I'll be bound, as to its being Mr. Rupert in his passion. Gone in home, did you say, sir?" "In bed by this time, I should say," replied the farmer. "They have got Mr. Rupert, Dumps." "Have they?" returned Dumps. "It's a nasty charge, sir. I shouldn't be sorry that he got off it." The farmer continued his road towards Barbrook; the policeman went the other way. As he came to the cottage inhabited by the Sanders family, it occurred to him that he might as well ascertain the fact of Jim's safety, and he went to the door and knocked. Mrs. Sanders opened it instantly, believing it to be the wanderer. When she saw policeman Dumps standing there, she thought she should have died with fright. "Your son has just come in all right, I hear, Madge Sanders. Farmer Apperley have told me." "Yes, sir," replied she, dropping a curtsey. The untruthful reply was spoken in her terror, almost unconsciously; but there may have been some latent thought in her heart to mislead the policeman. "Is he gone to bed? I don't want to disturb him if he is." "Yes, sir," replied she again. "Well, they have got Mr. Rupert Trevlyn, so the examination will take place to-morrow morning. Your son had better go right over to Barmester the first thing after breakfast; tell him to make for the police-station, and stop there till he sees me. He'll have to give evidence, you know." "Very well, sir," repeated the woman, in an agony of fear lest Jim should make his appearance. "Jim ain't guilty, sir: he wouldn't harm a fly." "No, he ain't guilty; but somebody else is, I suppose; and Jim must tell what he knows. Mind he sets off in time. Or--stop. Perhaps he had better come to the little station at Barbrook, and go over with us. Yes, that'll be best." "To-night, sir?" asked she timidly. "To-night?--no. What should we do with him to-night? He must be there at eight o'clock in the morning; or a little before it. Good night." "Good night, sir." She watched him off, quite unable to understand the case, for she had seen nothing of Jim, and Nora Dickson had not long gone. Mr. Dumps made his way to the headquarters at Barbrook; and when, later on, Bowen came in with Rupert Trevlyn, Dumps informed him that Jim Sanders was all right, and would be there by eight o'clock. "Have you got him--all safe?" "I haven't got him," replied Dumps. "There wasn't no need for that. He was a-bed and asleep," he added, improving upon his information. "It was him that went for all the injines, and he was dead tired." "Your orders were to take him," curtly returned Bowen, who believed in Jim's innocence as much as Dumps did, but would not tolerate disobedience to orders. "He was seen with a lighted torch in the rick-yard, and that's enough."