though he was the magistrate of the Island, and held the law in his own
hands, with the assistance of his two connétables, Elie Guille and Jean
Vaudin, they were all just farmers like the rest. M. le Sénéchal was,
indeed, a man of substance, and had acquired some learning, and perhaps
even a little knowledge of legal matters, but he trusted chiefly to his
good common-sense in deciding the disputes which now and again sprang up
among his neighbours. And as for Elie Guille and Jean Vaudin, they had very
little to do as officers of the law, but had their hands very full with the
farming and fishing and care of their families, and when they had to turn
constable it was somewhat against the grain, and they did it very mildly,
and gave as little offence as possible.

And behind M. le Sénéchal came two or three more men and half the women and
children of the Island, the women all agog with excitement, the children
dodging in and out to get a glimpse of the bound man. And none of them said
a word. The only sound was the grinding of the heavy boots in front, and
the bustle of the passage of such a crowd along so narrow a way. There had
been words and to spare up above. This was the end of the matter and of the
man in bonds, so far as the Island was concerned,--at least that was the
intention. There was no exultation fever the prisoner, no jibes and jeers
such as might have been elsewhere. They were simply interested to see the
end.

Behind them all, slowly, and as though against his will yet determined to
see it out, came a tall man of middle age, like the rest half farmer, half
fisherman, but of a finer--and sadder--countenance than any there. When all
the rest poured noisily through the tunnel and spread out along the
shingle, he stood back among the capstans under the cliff and watched
quietly.