"Strangled—and the body dragged down—to the water Who—who could—have done it?"
"Ah! that's the question, indeed, sir. It must all have been done for the sake of a bit of money, I suppose; for there was an empty pocket-book found by the water's edge. There are always tramps and such-like about the country at this time of year; and some of them will commit almost any crime for the sake of a few pounds. I remember—ah, as long ago as forty years and more—when I was a bit of a boy in pinafores, there was a gentleman murdered on the Twyford road, and they did say——"
But Mr. Dunbar was in no humour to listen to the landlord's reminiscences. He interrupted the man's story with a long-drawn sigh,—
"Is there anything I can do? What am I to do?" he said. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Nothing, sir, until to-morrow. The inquest will be held to-morrow, I suppose."
"Yes—yes, to be sure. There'll be an inquest."
"An inquest! Oh, yes, sir; of course there will," answered the landlord.
"Remember that I am a stranger to English habits. I don't know what steps ought to be taken in such a case as this. Should there not be some attempt made to find—the—the murderer?"
"Yes, sir; I've no doubt the constables are on the look-out already. There'll be every effort made, depend upon it; but I'm really afraid this is a case in which the murderer will escape from justice."
"Why so?"