He had, as he himself had confessed to his wife, murdered one man in escaping; a man, he reflected, could only hang once, and if he had not been taken in the streets of London he was not likely to be caught in the high street of Billingsfield, Essex.

It would be a great satisfaction to knock the squire on the head before he went any farther.
Moreover he had found a wonderfully safe retreat in the disused vault at the back of the church.

He discovered loose stones inside the place which he could pile up against the low hole which served for an entrance.
Probably no one knew that there was any entrance at all--the very existence of the vault was most likely forgotten.

It was not a cheerful place, but Goddard's nerves were excited to a pitch far beyond the reach of supernatural fears.

Whatever he might be condemned to feel in the future, his conscience troubled him very little in the present.