“No,” said he of King’s Hampton. “Told us to go to—you know.”
“No, I don’t,” said Moredock grimly, as if the allusion to this knowledge at his time of life was unsavoury. “But why wouldn’t he tell you? Don’t he want who it was caught?”
“Said it was nothing of the kind,” said he of Chidley Beauwells.
“Yes,” said the Duke’s Hampton man; “said it was an accident, old boy—a fall.”
“Hi! Yes. I s’pose it would be,” said Moredock drily. “Squire had a nasty accident before—a fall. Some people do have accidents of that sort.”
“Well,” said the Duke’s Hampton policeman, “we’ve done our duty, and that’s enough for us.”
“Ay,” said Moredock. “You’ve done your dooty, and that’s enough for you.”
They parted, and Moredock chuckled.
“Bats is nothing and moles is telescopes to ’em. Uniforms seems to make constables blind. Well, all the better for me. Hallo! where’s carrier going to-day? Doctor’s, p’raps, with some new stuff.”
The carrier was, however, not going to the doctor’s, but passed on.