“Daffy Halliwell?” he answered. “Course I do!”
“Well, and who is Daffy Halliwell? And what’s her proper Christian name?”
“Daphne,” said Pegge promptly. “Who is she? Why, her father was a bit of a farmer t’other side of the downs, beyond Markenmore Hollow. Dead now he is. There was two o’ them girls—Daffy and Myra. Daffy went out to India with Mrs. Tretheroe, and come back with her. Myra—I don’t know what’s become o’ she. Disappeared, like, just about that time—though I recollect now she was going to be married to a chap as lived near them—Jim Roper, woodman, to Sir Anthony.”
Blick paid little attention to these details; he was thinking over the principal points of the groom’s information.
“Now, Pegge,” he said a moment later, “an important question—am I the first person to whom you’ve told this story?”
“You’re the very first!” replied Pegge promptly. “I haven’t mentioned it to a soul but you!”
“Didn’t ever remark to any of your fellow-servants that you’d seen Baron von Eckhardstein out at that time of the morning?” suggested Blick.
“No!” affirmed Pegge. “I’ll not deny that I might ha’ done, just in a casual way, if I hadn’t heard of Mr. Guy Markenmore’s murder that morning. But I did hear of it, very early—earlier than most folks—before either our coachman or the second groom came to the stables—so I said nothing.”
“Who told you of the murder—so early?” asked Blick.
“Our village policeman,” replied Pegge. “I was standing at the end of our east walk when he and Hobbs went up the hill-side to the downs; Hobbs had been to fetch him. I should have gone up with them to Markenmore Hollow if I could have left the cob. I’d just walked along to the edge of our grounds, like, to get a bit of fresh air after being all night in the saddle-room, when the policeman and Hobbs hurried by. And putting one thing to another, I thought I’d hold my tongue. And I have done—till now.”