“Was he up?”
“No, he was in bed. She went in to look to his fire, and to see if he was all right.”
“That was after Thorpe and the stableman went to the road house, was it?”
“Long after! Thorpe left here about seven o’clock, and Joe went a little later. Lord, sir, nobody will ever think of suspecting either of them! But there’s a sartin man who don’t stand so well here, and some things p’ints strong agin’ him,” Mr. Bragg added, in lower tones. “Now, this is all atween us, mind you.”
“You can depend upon me, constable,” said Keene assuringly. “This information will not go farther than to Mr. French. It will be of great help to him in the case, and we’ll not forget it. What man do you mean?”
“Young Bob Jeffrey,” whispered Mr. Bragg, with mysterious significance.[{48}]
“You mean Mabel’s husband?”
“Sure thing! Since their marriage he has been dead nuts agin’ the old man, and talks pretty rough agin’ him. More’n that, sir, he’s been drinking more’n is good for him, and using his tongue too freely. I reckon he’ll have a hard time telling where he was till midnight last night.”
“What sort of a man is this Jeffrey?”
“Well, sir, he’s a hot-headed—— Say, there’s the coroner, now! I’ll have to quit you right here, sir, for I’ve a word for him alone.”