"Of course it is," returned the other. "Well, how would you set about it yourself?"
"I'd beat the Marsh up from border to border."
"So I will, sir, so I will!"
"And I should get that mulatto and hang him, for he's a sorcerer, a witchman; and I believe that as long as we have such a Jonah's curse among us that nothing will come right."
"I'll do that at once. But we've only twenty-four hours."
Imogene stood up and looked at the squire, and in a steady voice, as if she were pronouncing a definite judgment, she said: "It is enough for me. I will undertake to find your son for you, and the schoolmaster, too." And without waiting for a reply she swiftly passed out of the room.
"But what can we do?" stammered the squire.
"I should find that mulatto and hang him."
"But I don't care a fig about finding him."
"You must," persisted the cleric, "for he is the cause of the trouble. Find that mulatto, and leave the rest to Imogene. She has spoken, and you may be sure she'll keep her word. But find that mulatto!"
