A clear case--nothing could be clearer, said the
coroner to his obedient jury, who presently returned the only
verdict--one of accidental death--which, on the evidence, was possible.
Collingwood heard no comments on the inquest from those who were
present. But that evening, as he sat in his parlour at the _Normandale
Arms_, the landlord, coming in on pretence of attending to the fire,
approached him with an air of mystery and jerked his thumb in the
direction of the regions which he had just quitted.
"You remember what we were talking of this afternoon when you come in,
sir?" he whispered. "There's some of 'em--regular nightly customers,
village folk, you understand--talking of the same thing now, and of this
here inquest. And if you'd like to hear a bit of what you may call local
opinion--and especially one man's--I'll put you where you can hear it,
without being seen. It's worth hearing, anyway."
Collingwood, curious to know what the village wiseacres had to say,
rose, and followed the landlord into a small room at the back of the
bar-parlour.
An open hatchment in the wall, covered by a thin curtain, allowed him to
hear every word which came from what appeared to be a full company. But
it was quickly evident that in that company there was one man who either
was, or wished to be dictator and artifex--a man of loud voice and
domineering tone, who was laying down the law to the accompaniment of
vigorous thumpings of the table at which he sat.
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