“That he did, sir. And all for no reason at all. In fact, if one of Mr. Wetherby’s farm hands hadn’t luckily been by, he might ’ave done Mr. Stanworth a power of harm. Of course they did their best to hush it up; it gives the place a bad name if them things get about. But I heard on it all right.”
“Indeed? I had no idea it was as bad as that. There was—how shall I put it?—bad blood between them?”
“Well, you might call it that, sir. He seemed to take a dislike to Mr. Stanworth the very first time ’e saw him, like.”
“Rather a drastic way of showing it,” Roger laughed. “Perhaps he has got a screw loose, as you say. He hasn’t been here long then?”
“Oh, no. Not more’n a matter of three weeks or so, sir.”
“Well, I think I shall risk it. What I wanted to ask you was the quickest way of getting there.”
“To Mr. Wetherby’s? Why, you can’t go quicker than follow the road through the village, sir; that takes you straight there. It’s about a mile an’ a half from here, or maybe a trifle more.”
“Mr. Wetherby’s; yes. Let me see, that’s——?”
“Hillcrest Farm, sir. A very nice gentleman he is, too. Him an’ Mr. Stanworth was getting quite friendly before—before——”
“Yes,” said Roger hurriedly. “Well, thank you very much. I’m so sorry to have kept you all this time.”