Mrs. Prison could not tell him; she could only say that the doctor was departing from Mere Hall that day week; and that it was reported in the village that he had quarrelled seriously with Sir Louis. "Though of course," added Mrs. Prisom, "it may not be true."
"I must see to this," thought Fanks. "I wonder if this sudden departure has anything to do with the murder. Is it a case of thieves falling out; I must keep my eyes open." After which resolution, he asked the landlady if she was well acquainted with the Fellenger family.
"I should think so," said Mrs. Prisom, with pride, "I knew that poor, young man who was murdered in that wicked London, as well as I know myself. A noble gentleman, but wild; ah me!" sighed Mrs. Prisom, "just like his father."
"Did you know Sir Gregory's father?"
"Did I know Sir Gregory's father," echoed Mrs. Prisom, contemptuously, "do I know the nose on my face, sir? The late Sir Francis and myself were playmates. Yes, you may well look astonished, sir, but it is the truth. I was the daughter of the steward at Mere Hall, and I was brought up with the late Sir Francis almost like brother and sister. I could tell you many a good story of him," finished Mrs. Prisom, with a nod and a smile.
"You must do so," said Fanks, returning the smile, "I am fond of stories."
The fact is, he was wondering if he could find the motive for the murder in the family history of the Fellengers. Many great families had secrets, which, if divulged, might lead to trouble; and it might be that the Mere Hall folk's secret had to do with the tattooed cross. If it proved to be so, then Fanks thought there might be a chance of penetrating the mystery of Sir Gregory's death. The family secret and the death in Tooley's Alley were widely apart; but there might be a connecting link between them, at present hidden from his gaze. At all events, it was worth while examining Mrs. Prisom, and hearing her story.
This Fanks resolved to do that evening; but in the meantime he left the garrulous landlady, and went out for a stroll in the direction of Mere Hall. It was not his intention to see Sir Louis on that evening but rather to wait till the morning. Nevertheless, he had a desire to look again at the splendid mansion of the Fellengers, more to pass away the time than with any ulterior motive. In the calm twilight he strolled along, and soon left the village behind him. His way lay through flowery hedges, bright with the blossoms of summer; and, under the influence of the hour and the beauty of the landscape, Fanks quite forgot that he was at Damington for the purpose of unmasking a murderer. From his dreams he was rudely awakened, and brought back to real life.
As he sauntered along, swinging his stick, he saw a man ahead, whose figure and gait seemed to be familiar. In the clear, brown twilight he could see fairly well; and so it appeared could the man he was looking at; for the figure made a pause and jumped over the hedge. Fanks wondered at this, for he had noted that the figure was that of a gentleman, or, at all events, someone other than a labourer. With his usual suspicion, and as much out of curiosity as anything else, Fanks jumped over the hedge also; whereupon the stranger began to run across the fields. By this time, Fanks was thoroughly convinced that something was wrong; so he gave chase at once, with a chuckle of delight at the excitement of the adventure.
Across the green meadow they raced, and Fanks saw the man fading into the dim twilight. He redoubled his sped; so did the fellow, but in the next field Fanks found that he was gaining. The fugitive sprang over another hedge; with Fanks close on his heels. But when the detective landed he could see nothing of the stranger. A backward glance showed him that the man had doubled, and was running along beside the hedge. The next instant, Fanks was following on his trail; and, although the mysterious figure made the greatest efforts to escape, Fanks drew closer. Then an accident brought the race to an end, for the man stumbled over a clod, and rolled on the grass. The next moment Fanks, panting for breath, stood over him.