“I see. Captain a young man or an old one?”
“Oh, young, of course. About two or three and thirty, I should say. Brother of a deceased army pal of mine. Been stopping with us for the past two months. Very brilliant and very handsome chap—universal favourite wherever he goes.”
“Thanks. Now just one more question before you proceed, please: About the trainer Farrow getting the stable-boy to carry in that pail of water. Would not that be a trifle unusual at such a time of the night?”
“I don’t know. Yes—perhaps it would. I never looked at it in that light before.”
“Very likely not. Stables would be closed and all the grooms, et cetera, off duty for the night at that hour, would they not?”
“Yes. That is, unless Farrow had reason for asking one of them to help him with something. That’s what he did, by the way, with the boy, Dewlish.”
“Just so. Any idea what he wanted with that pail of water at that hour of the night? He couldn’t be going to ‘water’ one of the horses, of course, and it is hardly likely that he intended to take on a stableman’s duties and wash up the place.”
“Oh, gravy—no! He’s a trainer, not a slosh-bucket. I pay him eighteen hundred a year and give him a cottage besides.”
“Married man or a single one?”
“Single. A widower. About forty. Lost his wife two years ago. Rather thought he was going to take another one shortly, from the way things looked. But of late he and Maggie McFarland don’t seem, for some reason or another, to be hitting it off together so well as they did.”