She leaned back, her arms on his hips, blushing and laughing.
"He's turrible shy with strangers," she said, "he can't bear 'em. Stan' up straight, thee girt fule, Saul!"
Claud thought it as picturesque an interior as Teniers ever painted. The great hearth, with its seats each side of the chimney, the glowing fire, the white washed walls, the shining tins on the dresser, the amused, absorbed faces of the peasantry, and through the open door a waft of pure air with a glimpse of trees and evening sky.
He turned next to Joe Battishill, a comely young man of one and twenty.
"What do you think of this affair?" he asked. "You know these parts—I don't. Has such a thing ever happened before?"
There was a chorus of "No!" and at least half a dozen started forward to vindicate their country side of such a charge. All were convinced that it was the work of some tramp, and then Claud proceeded to give them his ideas on the subject. It was agreed that the stranger spoke sound sense, and several volunteered to organize search parties. This was just what he wanted them to do, and he despatched some towards Edge Combe, some along the highroad to Stanton, and with these last he sent a scribbled note, enclosing his card, to the Stanton constabulary.
He begged them to watch every tramp, every suspicious character that passed through the town. Just as he was in the act of writing, and waxing quite excited in his converse with the men, the doctor was heard lumbering downstairs.
A dozen eager faces darted forward to hear the news, but the doctor marched in solemn silence through the group, and took up his position in front of the great fire, facing the assembly.
"A won't speak a worrd till he's had his ciderr," whispered Mrs. Battishill to Claud, and Clara went flying past him into the cellar.
Meanwhile Dr. Forbes' sharp eyes had travelled round the room till they rested on Claud, and the two stood staring at one another in a manner irresistibly comic to the latter.