[THE INQUEST]
There was great excitement when the inquest was held on the remains of Mr. Strode. Although he belonged to the old family of the neighbourhood, and should have lived in the manor as the lord of the village, he had been absent from Wargrove for so long, that few people were well acquainted with him. Some ancient villagers remembered him as a gay, sky-larking young man, when with Mr. Hill the two had played pranks during vacation. Then came the death of the old squire and the sale of the manor by his son. At times Strode had come to Wargrove with his wife, and at Misery Castle Eva had been born. But he usually stopped only a short time, as the slow life of the country wearied his restless spirit. But always, when he came to his old haunts, he went to look at the home of his race. Every one knew that it was his desire to be Strode of Wargrove again, in fact as well as in name.
Many people remembered him when he came to Wargrove for the last time, to place his wife and daughter under the roof of Mrs. Merry. Strode had always been stiff and cold in manner, but, being of the old stock, this behaviour was esteemed right, as no lord of the soil should be too familiar, the wiseacres thought. "A proud, haughty gentleman," said some, "but then he's a right to be proud. Ain't the Strodes been here since the Conquest? 'Tis a wonder he took up with that Mr. Hill, whose father was but a stockbroker."
So it will be guessed that Strode's return to his native place to meet with a violent death at unknown hands, created much excitement. The jury surveyed the body in Misery Castle, and then went to the one inn of the village to hear the evidence. A few people were in the coffee-room where the proceedings took place, but Inspector Garrit gave orders that the crowd should be kept out. The street therefore was filled with people talking of Strode and of his terrible end. One old man, who had seen eighty summers, gave it as his opinion, that it was no wonder Mr. Strode had died so.
"And what do you mean by that?" asked Wasp, who, full of importance, was making things unpleasant with over-zeal.
The ancient pulled his cap to the majesty of the law. "Whoy," said he, chewing a straw, "Muster Robert--by which I means Muster Strode--was a powerful angery gent surely. He gied I a clip on th' 'ead when I was old enough to be his father, though to be sure 'twas in his colleging days. Ah, I mind them two well!"
"What two?" asked Wasp, on the alert to pick up evidence.
"Muster Strode as was, an' Muster Hill as is. They be very hoity-toity in them days, not as 'twasn't right fur Muster Robert, he being lard an' master of the village. But Muster Hill"--the ancient spat out the straw to show his contempt--"Lard, he be nothin'!"
"He's very rich, Granfer."
"What's money to blood? Muster Strode shouldn't ha' taken him up, and given he upsettin' notions. He an' Giles Merry, as run away from his wife, and Muster Strode, ah--them did make things lively-like."