“I reckon naught o’ these Crowner’s quests and a pack o’ lawyers and police fellers!” said he, with decision. “Allus goos a-huntin’ the wrong hare, they does! Don’t us as has lived in these here parts all our lives know well enough that this young man left a pack o’ mortal enemies behind him when he went away, seven years it is agoo? Ain’t there men round about here as had sweethearts and lassies whose heads he turned with his ways? Wasn’t he allus a-making love to all the good-looking young women? Doon’t ’ee tell me!—there’s more nor one man this side the downs as ’ud be glad o’ the chance of getting his knife into Master Guy Markenmore—or a pistol-bullet, either! That’s how he come by his death, so I do think!”
There was a murmur of general assent. An old man’s voice arose out of it.
“The ways of Providence be uncommon curious!” he piped. “Shouldn’t wonder if what Ben there say be of the nature of truth. Revenge be a mighty strong weapon in a man’s right hand, and it do grow all the stronger wi’ keeping, like good ale. Aye, sure, it med be a matter o’ revenge——”
Blick presently went away, to think over this suggestion. Grimsdale came to him again, looking mysterious.
“There’s a young man out there in the garden wants to see you—alone, in secret,” he said.
“Who is he?” asked Blick.
Grimsdale gave him a knowing glance.
“One of Mrs. Tretheroe’s grooms,” he answered.
CHAPTER XIII