“I don’t think as you could ha’ missed it, Mr. Petch,” the finder said, “it was that bright and plain!”
“But isn’t the grass long there?” Mary asked. She had already as much mystery as she could bear and wanted no addition to it.
“Not that long,” said Tom.
“No, not that long, the lad’s right,” Petch added. “I warrant I must have seen it.”
“That you must, Mr. Petch,” a lad in the background said. “I was next man, and I wondered when you’d ha’ done that bit.”
“But I don’t understand,” Mary answered. “If it was not there, this morning——”
“I don’t understand neither, lady,” the keeper rejoined. “But it is on my mind that there’s foul play!”
“Oh, but,” Mary protested, “who—why should any one hurt my uncle?”
“I can’t say as to that,” Petch replied, darkly. “I don’t know anybody as would. But there’s the flask, and flasks don’t travel without hands. If he took it out of the house with him——”
“May he not have dropped it—this afternoon?” Mary suggested. “Suppose he wandered that way after you passed?”