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.

The fellow had threatened his own life.  It was then a fair fight, for a man cannot be blamed if he tries to get the better of one who is going about to kill him.  On one of his many voyages, he had once shot a man in order to quell a mutiny; he had not killed him it is true, but he had disabled him for the time—­he had handled many a rough customer in his day.  The case, he thought, was similar, for it was the case of self-defence.  The law, even, would say he was justified.  But to slay a man in self-defence and then to marry his widow, though justifiable in law, is a very delicate case for the conscience; and in spite of the wandering life he had led, Mr. Juxon’s conscience was sensitive.  He was an honest man and a gentleman, he had tried all his life to do right as he saw it, and did not mean to turn murderer now, no matter how easy it would be for him to defend his action.

At the end of an hour he had decided that it would be murder, and no less, to let Stamboul track Goddard to his hiding-place.  The hound might accompany him in his walks, and if anybody attacked him it would be so much the worse for his assailant.  Murder or no murder, he was entitled to take any precautions he pleased against an assault.  But he would not willingly put the bloodhound on the scent, and he knew well enough that the dog would not run upon a strange trail unless he were put to it.  The squire went to his lunch, feeling that he had made a good resolution; but he ate little and soon afterwards began to feel the need of going down to see Mrs. Goddard.  No day was complete without seeing her, and considering the circumstances which had occurred on the previous afternoon, it was natural that he should call to inquire after her state.  In the hall, the gigantic beast which had played such an important part in his thoughts during the morning, came solemnly up to him, raising his great red eyes as though asking whether he were to accompany his master.  The squire stood still and looked at him for a moment.