And I was content.
CHAPTER VIII
THE MYSTERY OF CROSS ROADS FARM
We said nothing to the professor about the understanding we had come to. In his presence—and I had little opportunity of seeing Zena at any other time—we behaved toward each other as we had always done, and I did not think he had any idea of our secret. Personally, I felt the effects of my horrible experience in the Tudor room for some time, which I think accounts for my not doing myself justice in the next case I was called upon to undertake.
Let me recount the facts of this complex affair, which I take from the evidence given at the trial of Richard Coleman.
Cross Roads Farm, lying about a mile outside the village of Hanley, in Sussex, was owned by two brothers, Peter and Simon Judd.
They were twins, middle-aged, devoted to each other, and somewhat eccentric. Peter was well known to everybody. He went to market, paid the bills, and interviewed people when necessary. Simon seldom left the farm, and was little known in the neighborhood. They lived simply, had no servants in the house, and the villagers declared they must have been saving money for years. Mrs. Gilson, a widow in the village, went up to the farm daily, but was never there after eight o'clock.
At night the Judds were alone in the house. They never had visitors, they retired early, and their only known recreation was a game of chess before going to bed. No one, except Mrs. Gilson, and, on occasion, her son Jim, who was an "innocent," had been known to take a meal in their house. For Jim Gilson both brothers showed a pitying affection, and he came and went much as he liked, earning a few shillings by doing any odd job of which he was capable.
One evening in November Mrs. Gilson was returning from the farm considerably earlier than usual, when she met a man, a stranger, an unusual occurrence in a neighborhood where she knew everybody.
Next morning, on going to the farm, the blinds in the upper windows were not drawn as usual, a thing she had never known to happen before. The back door was generally standing open when she arrived; to-day it was shut, but was on the latch, and she entered, to come face to face with a tragedy.