Awdrey motioned to Hetty to follow him. They crossed the road near Hyde Park Corner, and soon afterward were in the shelter of the Green Park.
"Now, speak out," said the Squire. "I cannot stay long with you, as I want to take my little son for his customary walk. What extraordinary thing have you to tell me about Mrs. Everett?"
"Mr. Robert, you may choose to make light of, but in your heart ... there, I'll tell you everything. Mrs. Everett was down at Grandcourt lately—she was stopping at uncle's inn in the village. She walked out one day to the Plain—by ill-luck she met me on her road. She got me to show her the place where the murder was committed. I stood just by the clump of elders where—but of course you have forgotten, sir. Mrs. Everett stood with me, and I showed her the very spot. I described the scene to her, and showed her just where the two men fought together."
The memory of his dream came back to Awdrey. He was very quiet now—his brain was quite alert.
"Go on, Hetty," he said. "Do you know this interests me vastly. I have been troubled lately with visions of that queer murder. Only last night I had one. Now why should such visions come to one who knows nothing whatever about it?"
"Well, sir, they do say——"
"What?"
"It is the old proverb," muttered Hetty. "'Murder will out.'"
"I know the proverb, but I don't understand your application," replied Awdrey, but he looked thoughtful. "If you were troubled with these bad visions or dreams I should not be surprised," he continued, "for you really witnessed the thing. By the way, as you are here, perhaps you can help me. I lost my stick at the time of the murder, and never found it since. I would give a good deal to find it. What is that you say?"
"You'll never find it, sir. Thank the good God above, you'll never find it."