"I
reckon nowt o' circumstantial evidence! Look ye here! How do you
know--how does anybody know 'at t' young squire worn't thrown off that
bridge, and 'at t' bridge collapsed when he wor thrown? He might ha' met
somebody on t' bridge, and quarrelled wi' 'em, and whoivver it wor might
ha' been t' strongest man, and flung him into t' road beneath!"
"Aye, but i' that case t' other feller--t' assailant--'ud ha' fallen wi'
him," objected somebody.
"Nowt o' t' sort!" retorted the blacksmith. "He'd be safe on t' sound
part o' t' bridge--it's only a piece on 't that gave way. I say that
theer idea wants in-quirin' into. An' theer's another thing--what wor
that lawyer-clerk chap fro' Barford--Pratt--doin' about theer? What
reight had he to be prowlin' round t' neighbourhood o' that bridge, and
at that time? Come, now!--theer's a tickler for somebody."
"He telled that," exclaimed several voices. "He had business i' t'
place. He had some papers to 'liver."
"Then why didn't he go t' nearest way to t' house t' 'liver 'em?"
demanded Stringer. "T' shortest way to t' house fro' t' railway station
is straight up t' carriage drive--not through them plantations. I ax
agen--what wor that feller doin' theer? It's important."
"Why, ye don't suspect him of owt, do yer, Mestur Stringer?" asked
somebody. "A respectable young feller like that theer--come!"
"I'm sayin' nowt about suspectin' nobody!" vociferated the blacksmith.
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