“It is only his play,” said Mr. Juxon, still very white and holding Stamboul by the collar.  “Please tell Mrs. Goddard, Martha, that I am very sorry indeed to hear that she is ill, and that I will inquire this evening.”

“Yes, sir,” said Martha, who eyed the panting beast timidly and showed an evident desire to shut the door as soon as possible.

The squire felt more nervous than ever as he walked slowly along the road in the direction of the village, his hand still on the bloodhound’s collar.  He felt what a narrow escape Goddard had probably had, and the terrible sound of Stamboul’s baying had brought back to him once again and very vividly the scene in the woods by the Bosphorus.  He felt that for a few minutes at least he would rather not enter the park with the dog by him, and he naturally turned towards the vicarage, not with any intention of going in, but from sheer force of custom, as people under the influence of strong emotions often do things unconsciously which they are in the habit of doing.  He walked slowly along, and had almost reached Mr. Ambrose’s pretty old red brick house, when he found himself face to face with the vicar’s wife.  She presented an imposing appearance, as usual; her grey skirt, drawn up a little from the mud, revealed a bright red petticoat and those stout shoes which she regarded as so essential to health; she wore moreover a capacious sealskin jacket and a dark bonnet with certain jet flowers, which for many years had been regarded by the inhabitants of Billingsfield as the distinctive badge of a gentlewoman.  Mrs. Ambrose was wont to smile and say that they were indestructible and would last as long as she did.  She greeted Mr. Juxon cordially.

“How do you, Mr. Juxon—­were you going to see us?  I was just going for a walk—­perhaps you will come with me?”

Mr. Juxon turned back and prepared to accompany her.

“Such good news this morning, from John Short,” she said.  “He has finished his examinations, and it seems almost certain that he will be senior classic.  His tutor at Trinity has written already to congratulate my husband upon his success.”

“I am sure, I am delighted, too,” said the squire, who had regained his composure but kept his hold on Stamboul’s collar.  “He deserves all he gets, and more too,” he continued.  “I think he will be a remarkable man.”

“I did not think you liked him so very much,” said Mrs. Ambrose rather doubtfully, as she walked slowly by his side.

“Oh—­I liked him very much.  Indeed, I was going to ask him to stay with me for a few days at the Hall.”