they collected together.

_Who_ had done this deed?--the girl confined in Chesholm jail, or
her scoundrel brother? They remembered him well--like Ishmael of old,
his hand against every man, and every man's hand against him, the head
and instigator of every poaching fray, or hen-roost robbery, every
fight and evil deed done in Chesholm. Both brother and sister hated
her--Inez Catheron that she had taken her lover from her--Juan
Catheron that he had lost her himself. After Sir Victor he was
heir-at-law. Failing the life of the infant son, he might one day
write himself Sir Juan.

It was a lucky thing, croaked the Chesholm gossips, that Nurse Pool
had removed the baby, else the dagger that stabbed the mother would
have found its way to the heart of the child. Curse the black-hearted
murderer of sleeping women and from the throng in the churchyard there
rose up a groan to Heaven, and a hundred angry hearts pledged
themselves to avenge it if the law would not.

"The coroner would have let the young lady escape," said one. "See how
he snubbed Mrs. Pool, and how easily he let her betters off. If
Justice Smiley hadn't got out his warrant, she'd have been off to the
continent and clear away, long before this."

"Why don't they find Juan Catheron?" said another. "They _say_ they're
looking for him--why don't they find him then? Murderers don't escape
so easily nowadays--the law finds 'em if it wants to find 'em. It's
seven days since the murder was done, and no tale or tidings of him
yet."