“Giving you no more idea than just that?” asked Blick.
“He said nothing but that,” replied Daffy. “But I’m sure he knows something. Only, if you begin questioning him, for God’s sake don’t let him know I told you!”
“I can get over that, easily, if you’ll just tell me this,” said Blick reassuringly. “Did Roper make threats against Guy Markenmore in anybody’s presence beside your own?—in the old days, I mean?”
“Oh, he certainly did in the old days!—before I went to India,” asserted Daffy. “I’ve heard of him saying dreadful things at the Sceptre. I should think there’s many a man in the village who’s heard him.”
Blick’s memory went back to the first conversation he had overheard at the Sceptre, and to the remarks of certain of the village men as to the feelings of enmity cherished by various unnamed persons of the neighbourhood against Guy Markenmore.
“All right,” he said. “Your name shan’t come in. I’ve heard something of Roper’s threats and feelings elsewhere. But now, where does Roper live?”
“All by himself, in a cottage amongst the woods on the other side of the Downs, behind Markenmore Hollow,” replied Daffy. “He keeps himself to himself up there—never comes down this way, except once a week to buy his groceries and meat.”
“What sort of man is he?” asked Blick.
“He used to be as nice a lad as there was anywhere about, till Myra ran away,” answered Daffy. “But that soured him. He’s a black, gloomy, quiet man, now—scarcely speaks, and never smiles. I don’t know if you’ll get anything out of him or not, but I’m perfectly certain he either knows something or has guessed at something.”
“You’re quite sure, in your own mind, that Roper himself is innocent?” suggested Blick, looking searchingly at her.