“Because ’tis o’ Windover as you’ve been thinkin’ so much.”
“Faith and that’s true enough!” he answered.
“The Long Man o’ Wilmington do ha’ seen many a fearsome thing in his length o’ days, but he’ll never tell naun ... there be a patch o’ grass on Windover as hath been warmed wi’ a man’s life-blood ere now, but Windover’s kep’ the secret an’ will do till the end o’ time.”
“You mean the cruel murder of Roger Hobden, I think?”
“Aye, I do.”
“Then, Penelope, if you know any tittle of truth that may help discover his murderers, I beg you speak.”
“His murderers, young sir?”
“Aye, there were three concerned in it, as I imagine, and yet ’tis but imagination, for proof there is none ... so if you know, or can aid me——”
“No,” she cried fiercely—“no! And wherefore mix y’self in the black business—why?”
“For many reasons,” he answered thoughtfully. “Mayhap because I am an idler and the matter puzzles me, mayhap because I think Justice hath been cheated too long, or mayhap because I have reasons to suspect——”