"I never heard that," said Beatrice, wondering why Dinah had never imparted so comparatively modern a tragedy to her.
"I dare say not," said Mrs. Snow tartly; "the Paslows don't like talking about the matter. I heard about it from an old shepherd who keeps sheep on the Downs. Orchard is his name, and he was the butler of Mr. Paslow's father, who was alive when Colonel Hall was murdered."
"I never heard of a shepherd being a butler."
"You mean that you never heard of a butler turning a shepherd," said Mrs. Snow; "neither did I. But I understand that the poor man's nerves were so wrecked by the sight of the dead body that the doctors of those days ordered him to take the open-air cure. So he became a shepherd. A most superior man."
"Who murdered Colonel Hall?"
"No one ever found out. His throat was cut, and he was discovered dead in his bed. I believe a casket of jewels was stolen at the time, and was never found. But even if the Paslows didn't tell you about this, I wonder your father did not, dear Miss Hedge, as he was here at the time, and a visitor at the Grange."
"My stepfather never tells me anything."
"How dull you must be. He really is so eccentric. Lady Watson knew him years and years ago, and says that he is quite a gentleman. He was at Rugby with her husband, Sir Reginald, who is dead. But he took up this money-lending business, which really is not respectable, besides which, it is quite forbidden by the Mosaic law. Well, I must be going." Mrs. Snow rose, still smiling. "But you really must come over to the Vicarage, and let me make your life more gay. I shall also try and induce your father--no, stepfather--to come over."
"I don't think you'll be able to manage that," said Beatrice dryly, and wondering what all this alarming sweetness meant; "my stepfather never goes out."
"He did over twenty years ago. Ask him about his visit to Convent Grange, and about Colonel Hall's murder. It caused a great sensation, although the criminal was never found. But who is this?" Mrs. Snow stepped out into the sunshine as she spoke, and pointed her slate-coloured parasol towards Durban, who was standing near. He must have approached very softly, and must have heard every word the vicaress said for the last few minutes. His dark face looked unnaturally white, and he cast a nervous glance at the visitor. Beatrice noticed nothing, however, and ran to him at once.